On the Fringes

On the Fringes
By Ago

I had to shut the television off. It was the same story all the time for the past couple of months. Humanity victorious, the Elders defeated, ADVENT in disarray. Everybody cheering and hollering, as if most of the planet wasn't still a smoking, smoldering heap that might never again know a touch of green or the flow of clean water. Sure, Earth was free, I guess. Some celebrations were in order. But how long were they going to wave that banner around before they realized things were still just as bad as they were before? Before they realized that the time for celebration was long past, and it was time to roll those sleeves up and get to the real ugly work of reconstruction and reclamation?

I'd fume and rant some more about it to myself later. The clock said five in the morning, which meant it was feeding time. I slipped into my dirty overalls, slid on my ballcap and headed downstairs; the creak seemed to have gotten worse, and the banister wobbled just as badly. I kept telling myself I'll fix it but it just wasn't high on the list of priorities.  Feeding first, then feed myself, then I needed to work on the perimeter security system. Either the detection protocol was degraded or the foxes kept finding new ways in. Of all the animals ADVENT wiped out, foxes managed to slip under the radar. Somehow I wasn't surprised.

I guess I couldn't be too mad at ADVENT's laxity. Had they been any more thorough, I would've lost my animals.

I pushed through the camo netting, pausing for just a minute to rearrange some of the branches caught in the mesh entrance. I passed by the console and glanced at it to make sure everything was as it should've been; temperature and humidity were good, airflow was holding steady, water collection systems were working perfectly. I wanted to build an automated dispenser to save myself a bit of time in the mornings, but I never seemed able to find the time. As such, the most advanced feeding method I had was a bucket underneath a manual dispenser. The boys and girls in the next room were already excited; they heard the feed plinking against the dented walls of the aluminum bucket.

"Hey guys, how's it goin'?" The chickens crowded around as I opened the door. They knew the routine. They've known it their whole lives, for what little that encompassed. It's something I've always felt bad about. They're animals after all; they should see the sun, get fresh air, be able to feel the elements on their bodies. Instead they've got heat lamps on timers, water from drippers, and fans to fake a breeze. Truth be told I'm not sure they would know what to do with a damn worm if they saw one. But I had to do this. I've always had to do this. We've been hiding ever since the invasion, but the ADVENT ban on animals only made our concealment that much more important. Even now, with humanity back in control, I couldn't risk letting them be seen. What if some passing 'resistance' guys decided to take them for the greater good? Screw that, what's the greater good ever done for me? No, best to just live out the rest of my life here, alone -- what little that encompassed. Things were simple here. Everywhere else was chaos.

I took stock of them as I scattered the feed by hand. Marlene looked a little thin. Holly's bald spot was still there; I don't think she's sick, so another hen must be bickering with her. Judy was looking plump, and she's getting to be that age; she could be the next one on my table. Cathy's seemed to have lost interest in her chicks; I guess it was time to move them to the second enclosure. Iris and Penny were getting along again, so that's good, unless one of them just moved onto bugging Holly. And then there's Harvey; he seemed to have calmed down, so I'll keep him in here. The hens liked to have a rooster strutting about. I was thinking about building a third enclosure for him, he can get a little testy sometimes.

The sharp snap of a popped light bulb brought me out of my thoughts; one of the heat lamps called it quits. I'll have to get another bulb from the basement. Another thing to add to my list.

After the hens and rooster have had their fill, the chicks were next in line. They get fed in their own enclosure, so an agitated adult doesn't get too ornery with them. So far all of the little guys appeared healthy. I sure hope they stayed that way since they were going to be the next generation. I checked their water drippers, and before I left I noticed a dip by the far wall of the enclosure, like someone had been digging. But the straw inside was undisturbed, so it must have been from the outside. It's got to be a damn fox. I'll have to add some chickenwire before filling that hole in tonight. Yet another thing on my to-do list.

Collected eggs. Tended to the garden. Had breakfast. Beat the unused eggs and froze them in the basement. Kept the left-over veggies for dinner. Morning routine over.

The perimeter detection software was the next big thing. It's always the biggest pain in in the ass I have to deal with. I have to drag an old laptop out to the invisible fence line and spend hours debugging the code. I'll be on the verge of fixing it, only to find some new error's popped up in the code in a place I never even changed. Sometimes the laptop loses its wireless connection to the basement server and I have to spend forever walking up and down the fence line looking for a spot with good signal. Almost reminds me of what most people would call the goold old days, where we only had little problems in our day-to-day lives. For all the frustration this crap caused me, it's worth it. Haven't lost a chicken to a predator in years, so I haven't given up on it, even with its myriad bugs. Couldn't afford to if I wanted to stay here by my lonesome and survive.

By the time the software was fixed -- for the time being -- the sun had begun to set. My stomach grumbled angrily, so I headed back inside. Dinner's just more eggs and veggies. When I was done eating, my anger over the morning broadcasts had subsided and I switched the television back on. Surprise, surprise -- more hoohawing about how humanity has won. Footage abounded of alien forces still being routed across the globe, of the resistance forces waving their flags and shouting 'vigilo confido' while the news anchors play up the pride-of-humanity angle for the fighters. They damn near televised an execution before they realized what was happening and the camera panned around. Still heard the gunshots, though -- that made my skin crawl. It was at that point I had had enough. Switched everything off.

Settling in was a strange ritual in that every time I paused at the sink to brush my teeth, I said a little prayer to god that the plumbing still worked. The property has its own well, but the pipes were old -- like, older than dirt.  I anxiously turned the handle, wondering if today was going to be the day; regardless of what curses I spat during my daily chores, the powers that be saw fit to keep the water running for the time being. I brushed my teeth, stripped to my boxers, and climbed into bed. Only to remember then that I had forgotten to fill in that hole by the chicks' enclosure. I agonized for a few torturous moments, tossing and turning. I even switched the light back on a few times, ready to crawl back outside. Screw it, I thought. I decided to take care of it tomorrow morning, and drifted off to sleep.

A shrill buzzing woke me up about two in the morning. It wasn't my clock but the fence alarm I've got wired up to my basement server, the one that tells me if the perimeter's been crossed by something roughly fox-sized. The thought briefly crossed my mind that if I hadn't fixed the software I'd have gotten a full night's rest, but then again I could be down a chicken or more. I threw on old ratty t-shirt, grabbed the shotgun from beneath my bed, and rushed into the pitch black. The moment I set foot outdoors I could already hear the commotion coming from my chickens and my heart sank. I flicked on the muzzle flashlight, checked my gun, saw the flashy red of a loaded shell, and made a beeline for the coop.

I stopped dead in my tracks. The latch on the door was open. Foxes didn't do that. They can't. I mean, they could -- they can be pretty smart -- but why would it dig one night and then suddenly know how to use the door latch the next? And the tracks going into the coop were real weird. No paw prints, just a deep gouge in the dirt. Did it drag something inside? Of all the places to store a kill, it's got to use my chicken coop? And why the hell was the light on? The adrenaline surging through me left no time for useless questions and I barged in, leveling my gun at what I supposed was a fox's height.

Only to see a long, long tail that went deathly still the moment I entered. My jaw dropped and I tracked up, and up, and up further until I was staring eye to eye with by all accounts was just a giant freakin' snake -- with arms.

Its whole body was frozen, its amber eyes focused on me, one of my chickens in its grasp throwing an absolute fit. In the lifetimes this snake and I spent staring at one other, I remembered what I had seen on television: alien soldiers. Used to look different during the initial invasion. Spat venom. Newsfeeds called'em vipers, though with the hood they looked more like cobras. Lackeys of the Elders, instruments of death and malcontent, perpetrators of unspeakable acts of cruelty against humankind. At least, that's what the television said. They were fearless and always on the move, impossible to pin down and even harder to kill.

This one looked nothing like that. Creepy as all hell, sure. But with my shotgun pointed at its chest, I absolutely saw fear in its eyes. A desire to run, to preserve itself. A piece of its armor was missing, exposing half its chest and what looked like some birdshot wounds around what appeared to be a human-shaped torso. A fist-sized chunk of flesh was missing from the bottom right edge of its hood; dark yellow blood dripped intermittently from its wounds. They must have been fairly recent.

I could kill it. It would have been so easy. Wasn't that my duty? As a member of humankind, shouldn't I? One of the many tools of our former oppressors -- why shouldn't I kill it?

"Drop my chicken." Part of me hoped it wouldn't understand, that it simply couldn't. I hoped it would just make a threatening move and give me an excuse to pull the trigger. For all I knew it had just been in a fight; maybe it had just killed someone before being forced to retreat.

Unfortunately, it immediately obeyed. Judy fell to the ground, angry and noisy before quieting down and joining the rest of the chickens cowering in the far corner. The alien's gaze flickered to my gun before it seemed to recoil, sliding backwards a couple of feet. Was it cowering, too? What happened to the fearless killer the newsfeeds always showed? Where was the predatory instinct that made them vicious beasts? Where was the animal that I wouldn't feel bad about killing?

"You understand english?" It nodded near imperceptibly, perhaps afraid anything more might set me off. "Do you speak it?" It shook its head just once; again, a blink-and-you'll-miss-it sort of movement.

It was not immediately threatening, even for how imposing it looked. It was clearly wounded. I watched the tongue flick out past its lips and its eyes would try as hard as they could to glance at my chickens without moving its head; it was obviously hungry.

If I pulled the trigger now, I'd just be an executioner.

"You can't have a chicken. I can't do that," I said, lowering my gun to my hip but with the barrel still pointed at it. The cat was out of the bag now; what harm would there be in taking it down to my basement? I've got plenty of eggs and veggies in freezers. "I can give you something else and send you on your way. That fair?"

It nodded earnestly. I jerked my head towards the door and began to step backwards, still keeping my weapon pointed in its direction. It understood and began to follow me out, keeping a healthy distance between it and myself. I kept walking backwards towards the house until reaching the cellar, where I kicked the latch open. The doors were too heavy to just lift with my foot, though. I motioned with my gun at the entrance.

"Open it and I'll follow you down."

At this it hesitated. I suppose I might, too; a stranger behind me with a gun wanted me to descend into an underground bunker. Lots of old horror films or crime dramas might end or start this way. But hunger is a very powerful motivator -- I would know. The alien only thought for a moment longer before slithering up to the cellar doors and throwing them open, then carefully wound its way down the stone steps. The motion-sensing lights flickered on, bathing the basement in a strong white glow, and I followed down after it. This was where I kept damn near everything; food, water, spare clothing and bedding, my freezers, generators and fuel, my server for the various electronics around the property. It knew I had chickens; everything else seemed insignificant by comparison.

"Here," I said, circling around it to open one of the freezers. With my gun still trained on the snake, I reached in with my free hand and fished out two large bowls of beaten eggs then placed them both on the floor. Each bowl was probably about five or six eggs worth -- not that it mattered. I had plenty to spare. "This is all I've got for protein. You'll have to wait for it to defrost. Afterwards you could drink it if you wanted to, or heat it up and scramble them. You know, heat it up until it starts to turn solid. Whitish-yellow and brown are good, any darker and you're burning them."

I backed away and it came forward, gingerly picking up each bowl as if it were some sort of trap. In all honesty, it did seem thoroughly confused. It was almost like it was unable to process what was happening. Had it not known an ounce of kindness before? I figured ADVENT never treated its footsoldiers as anything other than tools, and I highly doubt any aliens got much courtesy from humans. Maybe it actually was confused.

I grabbed a tiny package -- one of many -- about half the size of a child's lunchbox, from one of the central shelves and slid it across the ground. "Home-made first-aid kit. It's only got clean rags and alcohol in it. Clean your wounds. Fair warning: the alcohol will hurt like a bitch. I mean -- it's going to hurt a lot." I couldn't spare antibiotics. I didn't know a damn thing about dosage for an alien, or if it would even be effective. The rags and alcohol would have to do.

"And here," I said. I flipped the lid on a plastic container and grabbed a light blanket, then dropped it on the ground between us. The snake cautiously inched its tail forward and wrapped it around the blanket and first-aid kit before dragging it back. "This time of year, days are always nice but the nights can get chilly. You can stay warm with that. From here, you head west and you'll crest a small hill. A few dozen yards past that is the edge of my property line. Do you get what I'm saying? I'm not going to see you again, am I?"

Those amber eyes still wide with confusion couldn't tear themselves away from the eggs, kit, and blanket. I had to repeat myself before those slitted pupils turned towards me. The alien slowly shook its head.

"Go on, then," I said, using my hands to motion towards the stairs. "And don't -- don't get yourself killed, I guess. That's good food and a good blanket. I'd hate for it to go to waste."

Its tail twitched over and over, like some sort of anxious habit. It turned slowly and slithered up the stairs, carefully so as not to drop the lifelines I had given it. I followed a short ways behind, just to keep it within eyesight as it made its own way off into the impenetrable black again. For as dark as it was -- it must've been close to three -- I didn't have to watch long before it seemed to dissolve into the night. Despite our...amiable meeting, it still made my hair stand up to know a giant, intelligent snake was out there and I couldn't see it.

I didn't get another wink of sleep that night. Helping an alien -- what sort of human was I?

-Chapter 2-

The day after that alien's visit was rough. I missed out on three hours of sleep while riding high on adrenaline and fear, so I crashed hard that afternoon. Multiple times, in fact. I fell asleep while emptying the water barrels into my underground storage. Damn near took a dip face first into one of them. Fell asleep laying on the floor, trying to fix the banister at the bottom step. Even took a snooze while standing under the bright basement lights, taking care of some server maintenance.

But none of these little naps were restful in the least. Every time I closed my eyes I saw that snake -- that viper -- right in front of me, in this weird state between illusion and reality that felt more a hallucination than it did a dream. I couldn't get my mind away from our encounter. Every time I saw it, we were just having a friendly chat, our mouths moving but no sound coming out. Neither of us would notice, though. We would just keep on talking without a care in the world, disturbingly oblivious to each other's silence. I'd wake up after what felt like talking for hours, feeling even more tired than before and with these strange thoughts in my head. What would it have sounded like? Did it use the ADVENT tongue or did vipers speak their own language? Did they speak at all?

In my restless state I sometimes heard an insidiously reasonable voice in the far reaches of my mind asking me why I hadn't pulled the trigger, saying by all rights I should have shot that thing where it stood. The voice only grew in intensity as time went on, daring me to even hazard a guess at some answers to its uncomfortable questions. How many people had it killed? How many homes had it razed to the ground? How many lives might it have upended at the behest of its masters? This self-interrogation was only exacerbated by sleep deprivation and resultant irritability. And boy, did it get bad, because things only got rougher that night. And rougher still the next, and the one after that. Eventually, this apparent obsession began to spill over into my waking hours. I couldn't escape it, and I was frustratingly forced to accept a simple fact that I had convinced myself long, long ago just wasn't true.

I was devastatingly lonely.

I had spent twenty years -- just over half of my life -- on this farm with no meaningful contact with another soul for the past eight. Each day had just become a checklist of the same things, an unchanging routine of tasks that varied only in the order in which they might get done. Chickens. Garden. Eat. Wash. Clean. Maintain. After all this time, after telling myself for so long I was okay with this isolation for the sake of safety -- were the cracks beginning to show? Was that it? It was the only explanation I could come up with. Anybody could have visited me and I'd have become obsessed with them, if only for the glimpse of society they may have brought with them, that desire to communicate and connect. How unlucky that it was one of the aliens that had happened upon my land. Someone who I could talk at, but not someone I could talk to. Someone that I was forced to greet at the barrel end of a gun because I didn't know who my friends or my enemies were anymore. I couldn't trust other people, human or alien, and now I realize it must be slowly but surely breaking me.

When my parents brought my brother and I out here during the initial invasion, we severed all contact with the world. We didn't tell anyone where we were going, what we were bringing with us, or what was already at our destination. Our parents drilled into us that in the coming catastrophe, people would only want what we had. Time and again, my parents were proven right. My father killed a few people who thought they could take from us. I never saw it with my own eyes, but I remember hearing the gunshots, the adrenaline-soaked shouting afterwards that everything was all clear. Until one time, things didn't go so well. Dad never gave the all-clear, so mom went to check on him. Two more gunshots, then total silence. We waited until the next morning to even dare to peek out the windows, and saw our parents and a third man laying in the grass. From then on, it was up to my brother and I to defend ourselves.

He had readily adopted our father's killer instinct. For him, taking life to protect us was easy. I lacked that resolve -- which was a constant point of contention between us -- and I think that's what has made me so afraid of other people now. I'm just not sure I have it in me to do what might have to be done. Even when faced with an alien, a killer from the old regime, my first instinct was to give. That was not how I would survive in this day and age. Back then, my brother probably felt I was dead weight. We argued for years; he thought we should do more, while I thought simply staying put and living was good enough. Eight years ago, he up and left, leaving only a note speaking of some resistance group.

I suppose I can't be too mad at him anymore; the resistance won, after all. He was right. I was wrong.

I awoke to an ever-increasing buzz as my senses returned to me, the last remnants of the latest viper dream vanishing into memory. The perimeter alarm was going off again. I rolled over and saw daylight peeking through the curtains, realizing only then I had overslept. I must have turned off my clock alarm while half-asleep. I yawned, stretched, then took a look at the alert. My heart sank; three different breaches, all within seconds of each other and the outer two contacts equidistant from the center. It was a formation.

Had that viper returned with help? Hell, I might have if I was it. On the run, hurt, hungry and afraid, why not grab a few friends and go raid the guy that it knew had more than enough to go around? I threw my overalls on, grabbed my gun, and rushed to the window to draw the curtains just enough to peek outside with one eye. Based on the time since the alert and the direction of the breach, they should have come into view right about...

They were humans. Laughing, talking, walking humans. Even with guns clearly visible in their hands, I couldn't seperate my excitement from my anxiety. After an incredibly unsatisfying glimpse of the outer world through the limited mannerisms of a giant snake, these guys would be what I had been looking for after all these years. Society, community, connection! I didn't need an alien after all. These guys would clear away the dreams, they would bring back a little bit of normalcy to my life.

But despite these enticing possibilities, I heard my parents in my head: they will want to take.

I gathered my thoughts, and stopped before exiting the front door to make myself look a bit less threatening. I cradled my shotgun low in my arms, took some deep breaths in an effort to relax, and ambled on outside into full view. By then, they were about fifty yards from the front porch. They stopped when they saw me, but only for a moment. After that brief pause, all three of them were waving and smiling. I waited and let them approach, ready to tell them when they were close enough. They stopped well before that point. All three slung their weapons onto their backs before the lead stepped forward.

"How's it going, friend? Glorious kind of day, ain't it?" He was a younger fellow, maybe early twenties. Asian, black hair, wearing an old army combat helmet and some sort of home-made armor by the looks of it. He had some wear-and-tear on him; a bullet had gone through the jacket's shoulder, but I couldn't tell if he wore the wound as well. He had a pouch on his hip carrying two magazines for a weapon that he didn't have; he had what appeared to be a shotgun -- maybe an old civilian model of something pre-invasion, I couldn't be certain. A brown bandage around his left arm hid a wound that must have been days old. His companions were dressed like he was, though the one on the left looked like he had rummaged through some military surplus; his gear looked straight out of an old world army, giving him the appearance of someone already battle-tested.

"Sure is, friend," I said, trying the word out. I hadn't said it in years. Maybe I had -- a few times, in passing conversation to my chickens. It felt good to say it aloud to another person. "What brings you out my way?"

"I'm Eric, and my friends here behind me are Gerard and Donovan. We're from a small town about four, five days back that way," he said, pointing in the direction from which they had come. "We had a very small ADVENT garrison within town limits. A dozen troopers and a few vipers. We finally decided to move on them earlier this week, but one of one of the snakes slipped away. Even with the aliens in a panic, we're worried she might call for some reinforcements, as improbable as it sounds. We've been tracking her since that night. Have you by chance seen her come this way?"

A hunting party. They must be the ones responsible for her -- "What do you mean, her?"

He looked at me like I was a total stranger. Well, even more of a stranger than what he had first thought. "All vipers are female. You didn't know that?"

"Been here a while. There's probably a lot I don't know." I thought I might have unconsciously tipped my hand a bit by having said that. Maybe they might start wondering what I had out here would have let me survive on my own for so long. But they seemed friendly enough, and none of them grabbed onto that question I had left in the air.

"You're one of them last-man-on-earth types, eh?"

"I guess you could say that." I nodded at his bandaged arm. "You saw some action then, with this fight you had? How was it? Is the town safe now?"

"It was fan-fuckin'-tastic," said his friend, the tan-skinned one in the surplus gear. Donovan, I think his name was. His voice was loud and animated, like he didn't understand how obnoxious he sounded. "We took the first squad on patrol by total surprise, ripped them to shreds in a crossfire. By the time the rest of the garrison mustered, we had them surrounded. Torched the building and picked off whoever came running out. The other guys skinned a couple of the snakes and now the bar has some real sweet, scaley-looking pennants hanging above the door as you walk in. I think they're gonna try to stuff another one -- you know, turn it into some trophy on a stand. I got myself a pair of fangs off one of them, check it out."

He held up a pair of large recurved fangs suspended on a necklace, in awe of his own handiwork while my blood slowly turned into sludge in my veins. Enemies, sure, I can understand hating your enemies. I can understand wanting to kill them, wanting to save the town. But that's where it should end, isn't it? Even the man that had killed my parents -- my brother and I buried him too. I hated him with every fiber of my being, I wished he had never been born, I wished I could have seen if I had had the guts to kill him myself...but we still buried him. And here these guys were, admiring their own barbaric tale like they were heroes instead of a bunch of butchers looking for the next thing to toss on the chopping block.

This was not the chat I had been hoping for. I hid my disgust behind a facade of admiration. "Sounds like you guys did quite the number on them."

"We sure fuckin' did," Donovan said, stashing the fang necklace back into his jacket. "Now we're just looking for the last one. We got some shots on her already but they're tougher than they look."

"Birdshot, by any chance?"

All three heads whipped around to look at me, eyes full of hope and bloodlust. "You saw her, then? Must have, to get close enough to see the holes we punched into her," Eric said.

"Yeah, she wandered by a few days ago. She stopped pretty close by, maybe thinking about looking for supplies in my place. But she just kept on truckin'. Not sure where she is now, but I can point you in the right direction."

"We'd be very appreciative, mister...?"

I waved away his question. "I prefer to keep to myself, if you don't mind," I said, to which Eric just shrugged his shoulders. "She headed north. Nothing out that way but some dense forest. Lots of places to hide, so I'd be careful if I were you."

It felt so strange to lie to them. The first humans I had seen in nearly a decade, with no ill will towards me in their minds, and I lied to them -- for what? To save the life of an alien that I had talked to for a half hour? Where was the connection? Where were the people that would make me want to come back to the world?

The three of them thanked me and turned to be on their way, only for the third guy -- Gerard -- to stop and look back at me, waving a canteen around.

"Don't mean to be a bother," he said through a thick foreign accent, "but if you've got some water, we wouldn't mind a top-off." The other two stopped and looked back, wondering what my answer would be as their hands drifted to their own canteens.

I guess my parents were right after all. Everyone always wants something. Were the actually asking? Or was it just a polite way of saying they needed water and they figured I had some? What would they do if I said no? Not that I could think of a reason to say no, but just -- what if? I guess I had frozen up a little because the three of them suddenly got nervous, which made me even more nervous. Nervous was bad when dealing with unknowns.

"I've got some water barrels out back; you'll probably want to boil it to be safe," I said. Their postures relaxed, though I shifted my gun to one hand, the barrel pointed at the ground but facing in their general direction. "One of you can follow me; leave your gun with your pals but take their canteens and you can fill them all."

My request was met without a single word of protest. Gerard hefted his rifle onto Eric's free shoulder before taking the groups' canteens. He seemed to understand my caution. He made himself look as harmless as possible, stopping halfway between us to reveal a knife which he tossed back to his friends. That made me a little uneasy; did he show me that as a symbol of goodwill or as a way to make me feel a false sense of security? I couldn't figure him out, but either way he seemed a likable fellow. He walked very slowly and made no sudden movements. His arms were full with three canteens, so it's not as if he could have done anything without first dropping them.

He followed me around the back of the house; I led him to the side opposite the chicken coop. I didn't want him smelling or hearing them. There we found my blue plastic water barrels, already partially emptied from my last collection a few days ago. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him stop, as if waiting for my permission again. I nodded at him and he got to work, submerging each container until it was full.

"So," I began, watching him fill the last one, "what are you going to do this particular viper when you catch her?"

"Not sure, my man," Gerard said, offering a bright white smile that contrasted with his dark complexion. "We're sure as hell not gonna lug three hundred pounds of muscle all the way back to town, so we'll probably clean her the moment she's down. We're thinking about leaving the fangs in and taking the whole head instead. An intact skull would look pretty wicked, yeah? Maybe put it on the ADVENT truck we took from the garrison, like a hood ornament. Tell me that wouldn't be awesome."

I swallowed hard, nodding with a smile that matched his. "Yeah, that -- that does sound pretty neat," I said as he capped off all three canteens. He took point just a few steps ahead of me, allowing me to keep him in full view as we retraced our steps to the front of the house, where his buddies were waiting in the exact same spots we had left them. Gerard trotted up to them, passed out the canteens and took his weapon back from Eric, who afterwards shouldered his gear more comfortably before turning back to me.

"We really appreciate your help, mister. If you like, I can send one of my guys back here with a piece of whatever we catch. You want a swatch of skin? It's got some nice colors to it, probably look good in a workshop or above a fireplace."

I fought back the acidic taste of bile that bubbled up in the back of my throat. "That's quite all right. Thanks for the offer, though."

He shrugged, and the three of them went their way. I sat on my porch and watched them off, making sure they disappeared over the horizon before allowing myself to relax. Even alone again, winding down from my first bit of human contact in eight years was not easy. I was suddenly tired and even unhappier than I had been before. That whispering voice of reason that asked me why I had let the viper go was now asking me why I wanted anything to do with people if they were going to be like that. Was the whole world a slaughterhouse now? Would those men live on into old age and tell their children about the time they carved up intelligent things just to have a memento they could put on a necklace or fireplace mantle? Or would they possess even an ounce of regret for their actions, and omit that detail while playing themselves up as heroes of humanity? Either way just didn't sit right with me in the least.

I remembered to feed the chickens before heading back inside to feed myself. On my way back inside, I nearly tripped on two clean bowls I must have left outside by mistake, which was odd because I didn't remember--

My hair stood on end. In that moment I had that distinct feeling like I was being watched, like I could feel someone shooting daggers at the base of my neck. I had the inclination to wheel around and brandish my gun, but I reasoned I'd be dead already if it -- if she wanted. I set my gun against the porch railing and slowly turned to see just an empty field, with the only other indicator of life being the bootprints my three visitors had left in the dirt and grass.

I couldn't wait for my fellow humans to hit the road, and now I was kind of sort of wishing this viper would show up again. I wasn't entirely sure what sort of company I was fit for anymore.

-Chapter 3-

Those two bowls stayed on my kitchen counter all day. And all night. And into the next morning.

I didn't quite know what to do with them. I found myself passing by them on a whim, as if I wanted to still see them sitting there on the counter top where I had left them. In short order they became an extension of my obsession, of my desire to meet this viper once more and hope that she might bring a bit of something with her -- a connection to someone else, some communication beyond the talk of blood and butchery my fellow humans had offered. Despite the language barrier, maybe in time she could somehow tell me her name, where she was from, or what her life was like. Maybe she would ask these questions of me, if she had the interest.

The more I thought about it, the deeper the chasm appeared between humanity and myself. Part of me wondered if it should be deeper, though. Beyond asking what had brought those three to my home, the first bit of curiosity I wanted to satisfy was about the fight. My stomach twisted itself into knots as I dwelt on it, as my thoughts stirred up painful arguments my brother and I had before he had ended up leaving. Was there a part of me that wanted to kill an alien, that wanted to have some trophy that I could show to other people and say 'look, I helped, too'? Would there by some grand tribunal where people lined up with pieces of alien corpses as proof they deserved to exist as part of mankind?

'Ah, viper fangs? You pass. Viper skins? Pass. ADVENT helmets? Looking good.' And then there'd be me, cowering under the harsh glare of the judge and my fellow man as I show my empty hands, soiled not by alien blood but by dirt.  'Hold on there, where's your pound of flesh? And you think you deserve to be called human?'

Maybe my brother was right; I feel too much for other people. I've got too much empathy in me to do what he did -- to do what dad did. I pointed a gun at an alien snake and I never saw the predator, the killer instinct behind her eyes. I could only see the overwhelming fear, the primal driving force of hunger that led her to my doorstep even when wounded. Did that make me a good person, or did that make me weak?

I felt like I'd never know unless I saw her again.

I took my breakfast outside and sat on the porch steps. Between bites, my eyes would casually drift westward, hopefully looking at the hill that partially blocked my view of the treeline. My fork mostly meandered about aimlessly, turning over some eggs or potatoes like there was something else to find on the plate. Though every time I heard the slightest sound I subconsciously reached for my gun beside me, only remembering when I grasped empty air that I had left it inside in some foolish attempt to make myself seem approachable.

My thoughts twisted and churned in my mind and I began to argue with myself. What if the gun had been the great equalizer? When I had found her in the chicken coop, she was scared; not of me, but of the gun. When I ordered her to put the chicken down, it was the gun that forced her compliance. When I told her to open the cellar and head down, it was the gun that guaranteed my safety. If she chose now to show up, it wouldn't be because I looked nice; it would be because I was no longer a threat. What if I had made myself a target? And it was only then I realized that if she came to me now with murder on her mind, she would almost certainly have the upper hand. After all, she was a weapon of the Elders; venom, a crushing tail, and long fangs made her formidable in her own right.

The sudden fluttering of wings made me tense, and once again my hand went to the imaginary gun beside me. I wish I could say it was reflexive, a movement trained into me by circumstances of my existence, but it wasn't. It was purely instinctual fear that kept me grabbing for a gun, that had me constantly forgetting there wasn't one there. I took a deep breath and let it go slowly and deliberately, hoping it might calm my nerves. Stop startling so easily, I told myself. It's just birds. It's just wind. It's just nothing. I took another bite and looked towards the horizon, wondering what else might be coming my way.

And there my answer stood in front of me not ten yards away, tongue flickering in and out in a frenzy.

"Oh," I muttered, absolutely paralyzed by fear; every muscle in my body pulled taut like a steel cable to the point of snapping. It was odd to see her in broad daylight, in much the same way I imagine a kid would find it odd to see a monster anywhere but under the bed. In the natural light I could see her eyes that seemed amber in our first meeting were actually far darker -- nearly red. She was mostly yellow with concentric diamond shapes of black white, and orange. It was startling to see something so familiar in an unfamiliar shape; everything about her echoed Earth snakes, from the intricately scaled top side -- er, dorsal side, if I remember my old high scool classes -- to the white segmented scales that covered her neck and belly. Things got weirder the higher up I looked; arms and armored plate that looked like it hid a pair of breasts behind it.

She looked around me, only minimally moving her head.

"No gun," I said, doing my best to keep my voice from trembling. "Not this time."

Her eyes locked onto mine. In that exact moment I felt like a rabbit, frozen in place and waiting for the predator to make the first move so I would know exactly in which direction to juke and sprint. But it was just a passing glance at best, and her gaze fell down to the plate of half-finished food in my hands.

"Hungry again?"

She could not have nodded any harder if she had tried; with that hood of hers, it's a wonder she didn't take to the air then and there.

"Follow me, then," I said as I got to my feet. She began to slither to the side of the house where the cellar door was. "No, not that way. I've got some fresh food inside."

At this she stopped and seemed thoughtful, as if considering options. Even in my fear I laughed inwardly at the thought that she might believe I was the predator, that I was the one leading her into a trap. But what sort of trap would see me set her loose the first night I had met her? Either way, something was on her mind because he looked me dead-on and pointed northward.

I chewed on my lip some, trying to figure out what it was she was getting at. There was nothing out that way but trees for as far as I had ever traveled; dozens and dozens of miles of forest so thick it had sometimes been hard to even find my way through. Then it hit me.

"What, those men from yesterday? You saw me send them that way?"

She nodded again, then cocked her head at me. She might have been an alien but I could read the question in those eyes of hers just as easily as if she had been a human: why?

"I don't know." She pointed to herself, still looking at me. "Yeah, they were looking for you. They -- they had some bad things in mind. I don't want to see anyone get hurt, much less be the cause of it."

She took another long look at the northern treeline. I guess my answer satisfied any other questions she had, because she seemed a little more relaxed afterwards. I made room for her to move by me into the house, and she accepted my invitation, slithering past close enough for me to see the wounds that still marred her body. Some of them looked better, some looked worse. The hole at the edge of her hood looked totally scabbed over, and I couldn't see any signs of infection -- if aliens showed infection the same way humans did. Some of the birdshot in her torso was close to the surface and wouldn't require much digging around, if any, to fish out. Others were deep and not immediately visible beyond the swollen skin beneath her scales, indicating something foreign was buried in her flesh. I thought it might be inflammation, but then again -- she's an alien. I had no idea how her body reacted to injuries.

Her proximity also gave me a better understanding of just how immense she was. Even slightly slouched forward, she was much taller than I was; I had to guess she was over seven feet, probably closer to eight. Her maw was as big as the rest of her and seemed to stretch all the way across her face; the front seemed fixed into what looked like a permanent scowl or frown but I had seen her move the sides and corners of her mouth to emote. Her eyes also seemed to dip inward a bit which gave her a very intense gaze, completing the angry look that seemed natural for her.

"Hey." She stopped right before entering the front door, but did not turn to look at me. I wondered if I was about to overstep but pressed onward with my question anyway. "Some of those holes in you look pretty bad. If you need help treating them...I mean, I can do that for you. After you get something in your stomach, maybe?"

Her head dropped and I saw her hand -- four fingers, how odd -- slowly move to her midsection and chest, where her armor piece was missing. She briefly hesitated before delicately prodding the area. I saw her shudder and flinch from her own touch. She turned and gave me a single nod, then continued on into the house with me more than a step behind her. I had to be extra careful not to step on her winding tail as it followed her around. At its thickest point it must've been the size of my chest. She really was deceptively massive, considering how easily she moved about in my home.

"Kitchen's on your left -- no, the next left," I said, watching her correct her path. "You can take a seat wherever you like." I turned the stove top up and threw a clean pan onto one of the burners, then flew to the fridge and grabbed half a dozen eggs.

An alien -- in my house! As a guest! My fear shrank, overtaken by the sheer absurdity of the situation. People the world over were hunting down what trophies they could, and here I was harboring a viper. I had told her it was because I didn't want to see anybody hurt, but that wasn't the entire truth, was it? I hadn't told her it was because I was lonely, because I wanted someone or something to interact with whose intelligence was greater than a chicken's. And yet, I felt my elation at the prospective end of loneliness being tugged down by the weight of expectations.

What would my parents have said, I thought to myself as I cracked the eggs one at a time into the hot pan. My parents, whose first instinct was to run away from it all in an attempt to protect their two sons -- would they be disappointed? Scared for me? I suppose the latter was a given; though my fear was less than it was the first time I had met this viper, it was still very much present. I'd bet my dad was turning in his grave but I imagine mom might be proud of me for helping someone in need. Well, pre-invasion mom, anyway. I could never clearly tell how the invasion changed her, she was always good at putting on a smile. Looking back on it as an adult, I guess that meant things were pretty bad. She was just doing her best to shield us from it.

And what about my brother? Oh, I could not imagine the fury he'd feel if he could see me now. The anger he showed during our arguments, calling me weak, lazy, apathetic -- I'm sure that anger was tempered by some amount of brotherly love, and I shudder to think what he would sound like truly unleashed. He left to make a difference, ostensibly to kill as many of the aliens as he could, and I simply invited one right into our home, told her to sit at the table while I cooked for her. I wonder if he would kill me. Would I be a collaborator in his eyes? Or rather, what if I was just living up to expectations? If he were here, would he just laugh and smile and say he knew I was a useless softie, then blow her brains out and act like nothing was different? I wondered if he showed up with a bunch of fellow fighters, would he defend me or leave me out to dry for my actions?

The smell of slightly burnt eggs brought me out of my thoughts. I took the pan off the burner and upended it, watching the scrambled eggs tumble out onto a plate. When I turned, I saw she had forgone using a chair. Which made sense, seeing as how chairs are made for human bodies. Not sure what I had been thinking when I told her to sit. Regardless, it still appeared as if she was sitting; she was coiled up a little like a spring, with enough of her body beneath her that she looked to be normal height while at the table.

She did not show a moment's hesitation the second I put her plate in front of her. I didn't even have time to grab her a fork. She took the plate in both hands, held it in the air, and let the pile of eggs just slide into her impressively, frighteningly huge mouth. If I had blinked I would've have missed it. To be honest, I wished I had missed it. Seeing that gaping maw and fangs bigger than my fingers gave me the willies.

"Uh, okay," I said as she gently put the plate down and looked at me, her forked tongue flicking past her lips, "that took less time than I thought." I was left a little disappointed. I had been expecting her to slowly pick away at her plate with a fork, with me sitting at the opposite end of the table maybe trying to make conversation with some simple questions that wouldn't need more than a nod or shake of her head. I never even got to sit down. Maybe next time. If there was a next time, anyway. I still wasn't sure where this whole situation was going. Was she here for another dine and dash or did she come back for something a little longer term?

"Well then, if you're satisfied, you can follow me to the basement and I'll do what I can for your wounds." I turned to make my way towards the basement stairs off the foyer, and I heard movement behind me,  like someone shuffling a heavy mat across the floor. Knowing she was there and hearing her move quickly to stay behind me set off the most primal, animalistic parts of my brain. In that moment I felt like the rabbit again, knowing the predator was there but unable to see it, wondering when it would strike. My heart quickened, my breath caught in my throat, and I damn near felt like I was about to have what I assumed to be a panic attack for the first time in my life. I was suddenly, inexplicably weak and short of breath, my chest seized by fears I didn't know how to suppress. I was forced to reach out and steady myself by leaning against the wall, nearly panting to catch my breath. I stayed there for a few moments, struggling to regain my composure.

Imagine my surprise to see her face in my peripheral vision, her blood-red eyes and their slitted pupils a bit wider than normal and assessing my condition. Was it concern? Or maybe she hoped I was about to kick the bucket and the house would be hers?

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I managed to stammer, feeling my way down the stair well. She followed me down a little more closely than before, maybe expecting to catch me if I fell. In all honesty it just made me a little more uncomfortable but I did my best not to let it bother me. We hit the bottom step and the motion-sensing lights came on. Still leaning a bit, I felt the wooden wall of the staircase transition into concrete, old and pitted. I paused for just a moment to finish collecting myself, then made my way to the opposite end of the basement, where a large table waited. On the way I grabbed three of the homemade first aid kits, an actual first aid kit, and a few vacuum-packed bags of surgical instruments.

"Hop up here and lie back," I said, patting the table. When I heard no movement I turned and saw her looking questionably at the bags in my hand. They were entirely plastic, with a solid white back and a translucent blue front that allowed one to see which instruments were inside. There was otherwise nothing remarkable about them that might draw such scrutiny. "What's wrong?"

She pointed at me, then used both hands to press a finger to either side of her head. She drew both fingers down an imaginary line that met in the center of her chest, where she then pat against her body to produce a rhythmic thumping that sounded a lot like a human heartbeat.

I was a bit dumbfounded, at first. Heartbeat. Lines to either side of her head, like where ears might -- "A stethoscope?" She nodded and held her hands out, as if expecting more out of me. What would a stethoscope have to do with any of this? Why would I need one? Then I got to thinking who might wear one. "A doctor? Are you trying to ask if I'm a doctor?"

Another timid nod, as if she were afraid of my answer.

"No, I'm not," I said, opening the real first aid kit and putting on the gloves found within, "but I've done this before. Not as many pellets, though. Trust me."

She didn't look all too satisfied with my answer, but I couldn't tell how much of that was her normal expression and how much of it was anxiety. Either way, she did as instructed and draped her upper body across the table, leaving most of her tail end beneath the table. I pulled up a chair and sat down before ripping open the instrument pack.

"If you used the alcohol I gave you the night we met, you know how much this is going to hurt. Are you ready?"

She hesitated, but gave me her okay. I switched on the flashlight, splashed the forceps with alcohol, and set to work.

The injuries looked pretty good, as far as gunshots go. Many of them showed signs of advanced healing, which seemed strange given that she was shot about two weeks ago, two and a half at the most, if the timeline from those three men was accurate. Wounds such as hers should not look as good as they did this soon after occurring. In all I counted thirty-eight of them, eight of which still had pellets inside, two of which looked like they might need to be dug out. I guess the other pellets had all fallen out already; the empty wounds were not deep at all, indicating either her scales were harder or thicker than they appeared or that her assailants shot at her from well outside effective range.

I started with the ones easiest to reach first. They couldn't have been less than an inch or so in her flesh -- easy to reach with the long forceps I had. Still, I exercised as much caution as possible to avoid causing even more trauma or undue discomfort. The fiery sting of alcohol was enough to bear already, judging by her twitching, and the constant flicking of her tail. I had to be extra careful; sometimes her tail would whack against the legs of the table as I worked, startling me. One by one, the pellets came out. I had no dish for them so I just let them fall to the concrete floor with a soft, tiny click. Sort of like chicken feed hitting the aluminum bucket.

Her silence was beginning to unnerve me. I didn't know if I was doing a good job or not. Even if I was doing poorly, would she show weakness by grimacing or hissing? Maybe she was like me; unsure of how to handle the situation, unsure of who was the threat to whom, and so she always thought to put on a strong facade. Either way, I didn't like the quiet, so I broke it.

"My granddad -- you know, my father's father -- he and grandma built this house with their own hands way back when, before I was even born. He was a veterinarian. Took care of animals, I mean. That's where these instruments come from. He mostly took care of his own -- he used to have a couple cows, a horse, various other little critters." I pried out another pellet; her tail shifted angrily but her expression was unchanged. "As weird as it seemed, he was also an avid fowl hunter. He and dad would sometimes go duck hunting in the marshlands that used to be a a few hours' drive north. I went out there with them once, when I was old enough. It was great -- me, dad, and his dad -- three generations out for some bonding. Well, the day was spoiled pretty much the moment we got there. We found a duck another hunter had left. We didn't know why, maybe he couldn't find it after downing it or something -- but it appeared sort of okay. It was up and walking, quacking up a storm, but it just couldn't fly."

The last of the easy pellets was free, and I wiped down the forceps with alcohol-soaked gauze. Her blood on my hands was impossible to ignore; it was just as slick and warm as human blood, made different only by the golden yellow color. Fresh blood out of her agitated wounds was brighter. I saw her looking at me as I slid my fingers together and became embarrassed for some reason, then got back to work on the first of the deeper ones. "It looked like the duck suffered a graze. The wing was torn up pretty bad, and there were entry wounds along the same side of the body. Dad wasn't about to let that spoil his day, but granddad was pretty upset. We ended up driving all the way back here, and I watched him pull every last pellet he could out of this bird. Dad told me that bird ended up living here. Even had a little pool built just for it. Ended up dying of old age."

I probed deeper with the forceps and felt the ends tap against a pellet. It was a careful business, using the forceps as an extension of my sense of touch and gauging where the edges of the pellet were, then firmly grasping it with the instrument and dragging it out. It was easy to tell this wound was worse because it appeared more inflamed, and her response to my touching was more pronounced. While digging this one out, I believe she may have mistook my leg for a table leg and squeezed pretty damn hard. She only realized when I said 'ouch' and then my leg was free.

"I watched my granddad the whole time as he picked out the birdshot. I thought it was pretty fascinating, you know?  And it was a good thing, too, because I ended up having to do this same thing for my brother way back when, when it was just us here." I grabbed hold of the second pellet, probably about two inches into her flesh, and gently began to pull it to the surface. Her tail slapped the wall so hard that even with her weight atop of it, she moved the table a good couple inches. I had to readjust to get a firm grip on the shot again, which just made her have to endure the poking and prodding a second time. A rivulet of yellow blood spilled out, staining the table, but with it came the last remnant of her attack. It fell to the ground with the others. I'd pick them up later.

"That was the last one. I, uh -- I don't know if you want me to stitch them up? I don't have suture materials. Not to mention I don't know if a suture needle would get through the scales--" She cut me off by holding up one of her hands, then relaxed again, breathing a little heavier than before. I guessed that was a no to the sutures. Not that it mattered anyway. I cleaned up what little blood had spilled down her side, wiping gently to not irritate the wounds -- or her -- any further.

She slowly sat up pressing one of her hands against her side as she did, and slid off the table in a singular motion, using her tail to support everything she did. She took a look down at my leg, then looked me right in the eye and bowed her head at me.

"Yeah. You're -- you're welcome. Are you able to move okay? Yeah? All right, we can head back upstairs. I'll show you to your room. I mean, if you want a room. You're welcome to stay if you like, is what I'm trying to say."

Her eyes widened and she gave an me an energetic nod. I smiled at her, partly due to the nature of her answer, and partly just to see how it felt. Smiling seemed like such a human thing. Did it have the same meaning for aliens? If not, did they at least understand its significance? I hadn't done it in a long time, not even to the three humans that had shown up the other day. I've just been on guard for ages, and to feel vulnerable again, to have let someone in my life literally and figuratively felt terrifying. Like at any moment the rug could be pulled out from under me and all this effort would be for nothing. I heard that awful whispering in the back of my mind saying this would be a mistake -- this longing to reconnect to someone, anyone at this point, would just be a long journey that ultimately proved why I shouldn't want to reconnect to anyone.

I didn't want to think like that anymore. So I just smiled to try it out. In truth, it felt good.

She followed me to the ground floor, then up the stairs to the second floor. I showed her my brother's old room. Everything was unchanged since he had left; his clothes were still in the bureau. His pre-invasion sports posters still decorated the walls. Some plastic models of tanks and fighter jets lay scattered about the various bookshelves. She rushed right in and made herself at home on the bed, curling up as much of herself as she could beneath the heavy blanket. A few feet of her tail hung off the side, though, and she'd probably get a few drops of blood on the sheets, but I could change them later. Before I left I showed her how to use the lock on the door in case she wanted privacy, but she was already comfortably settled and felt no inclination to get up to test the lock.

"I'll wake you for dinner, if you're not up already." She nodded again, but before I closed the door, something else came to mind. "Can I ask you something?"

She waited, leaning towards me slightly as if to say she was listening.

"Do you have a name? I mean -- hang on, that came off sort of rude. Let me start over on that. My name's Liam. What's yours?"

Her eyes fell to the floor and even with that natural scowl of hers, it seemed apparent she had something heavy on her mind. Slowly, she reached over with her right hand to the piece of shiny metal armor on her left arm. It split along a single seam and she slid it down her arm. She pointed at something on the inside, then grabbed it with her tail, which she snaked over to hand the armor to me. It was impossibly smooth in my hands and black, but so shiny it looked almost like silver. Up close I could see what she had pointed at, and it made my heart sink.

I only knew of the ADVENT language what I had seen on television, which was to say not a lot. But still, I knew enough to tell that the jumble of letters and numbers on the inside of her armor piece were entirely meaningless with regards to any syntax, let alone a name. It was a designation -- not a name. At the very end was a soul-crushing representation of everything she was and ever would be worth to her former masters: a barcode. The entirety of someone's life, able to be read by a handheld scanner. Something to be picked off of a shelf, consumed, and tossed away. Any fear left inside of me just gave way, replaced by overwhelming pity.

I put it as bluntly as I could. "You know this isn't a name, right? This may have been how you were known then, but it isn't now. It shouldn't be, anyway. Do you want a name?"

A hesitant, uncertain nod, but it was a yes.

Viper, viper, viper...Vicky? Nah, mean old neighbor lady pre-invasion. Victoria? Probably a bad sentiment there, she was an ex from high school. I knew a Violet but she died in a car accident; that seemed like some bad luck to put on my guest.

I had that itch in the back of my mind that usually told me I was overthinking, and reached up in vain to scratch it away. It seemed so dumb that every name I came up with had to start with a 'v', but I guess it was just one of those idiosyncrasies of the human mind, always trying to make patterns and and connections. The catalog of names in my head that started with 'v' was short, so I thought screw it.

"Well, what about 'Vee' for now?"

She cocked her head at me, as though considering it. I saw her shift her jaw side to side, as if she was moving the name around her mouth, maybe testing it out in her imagination. But then I saw her jaw move a little more, the bottom lip curled inward as if preparing to make a sound, and she breathed -- not spoke -- the name back to me in a voice that seemed to know English sounds but was uncomfortable saying them. "Vee."

My heart jumped; so she could speak. Maybe it was hard for her to make human sounds, but it brought back the hope that maybe some day we actually could carry on a back and forth. "Yeah! Yeah, that's it. I mean, you don't have to keep it. My grandma had a book of baby names in the house somewhere. I think I could find it for you if you like. I'll have it on the table when dinner's ready and you can find a name you might like better."

"Vee."

I laughed. "All right, then. Get some rest. Like I said, I'll let you know when dinner's ready." I watched her through the shrinking crack of the doorway curl up even tighter, shoving her head beneath the covers and settling into the place. The only part left of her I could see was a few feet of her tail hanging off the edge of the bed and spilling out from the covers onto the floor. The door clicked shut.

As I made my way back downstairs, my smile was so wide it made my face hurt. Alone no more. Please let her stay. I'll try to learn some ADVENT, I'll teach her English, I don't care what I have to do -- just please let her stay.

-Chapter 4-

I had dinner all set before I even bothered heading upstairs; eggs and potatoes, same as ever. Very rarely would I get to enjoy actual meat, and potatoes were some of the only vegetables that would grow. I sometimes got lucky with carrots, tomatoes, and peas, but it was a total crap-shoot even when I planted at the right time of year. The cities looked nice and clean on television, but everybody seemed to have conveniently forgotten the dust, grime, and rubble that polluted the air and earth these days even this long after the invasion. The soil has gotten worse as time has gone on. I imagined it's the same everywhere else, and I doubt ADVENT even cared. After all, one of their objectives was population consolidation and control. I had figured that out when they started banning all livestock. Control the food, control the people.

"Hey, Vee." I paused in front of her door and knocked twice, giving her some long moments to protest or lock it. When nothing happened, I slowly cracked the door to have a peek inside. The covers looked like they were hiding a small boulder that gradually began to stir the further I let myself in. Her face slowly rose from underneath the sheets, followed by her hood, neck, and body; not unlike one of those stereotypical snake charming cartoons from way back when. She locked her hands in front of her and thrust her arms all the way out in a good stretch, then took what I guessed was a great big yawn, complete with a quiet hissing. Even as friendly as things seemed between us for the moment, I couldn't stop my brain from throwing up red flags upon seeing that huge mouth of hers wide open, white fangs clearly visible.

"You've been sleeping for a while. It's just past nine. Or, uh, 2100 hours for you soldier types." Her eyes widened a bit with mild surprise. She seemingly fell out of bed; her upper body was almost entirely over the edge before her tail end slipped out from the covers and gracefully stopped her fall. The entire motion looked as if someone had poured her out of bed tail-first.

I stepped aside to let her past. Her wounds were already looking better. Some of them had already shut entirely, leaving only minor scars. I didn't know whether such rapid healing was natural to her species or if it was ADVENT technology. They used to talk up gene clinics on the television all the time; cure cancer, congenital defects, other diseases. I don't see why they couldn't give their soldiers fast healing.

I followed her downstairs. She remembered where the kitchen was and made a beeline for it, sliding around the edge of the table to one of the plates still softly steaming. Something in the back of my mind told me to ask her to wait, but I could only wish I had paid it any attention as she completely emptied her plate before I could even sit down. I had only just begun to plant my butt into a chair when she noticed the book of names I had found in the master bedroom, hidden beneath the bed among a treasure trove of artifacts from the good old days: children's books, doodles my brother and I had done, old birthday and get-well-soon cards addressed to our grandparents.

She looked thoughtfully at it, finally deciding to flip it open and skim through a handful of pages while downing the glass of water beside her empty plate in a single swig. I picked at my food but devoted most of my attention to watch her. She seemed only half-interested, never spending much time on any page before moving onto the next. Once or twice she would drag a finger down across a page, tap a dark claw against whatever it was that caught her attention, but then she'd move on as if whatever had made her stop in the first place had never been interesting at all. She only bothered to look through the book for five minutes or so, then shut it and pushed it aside before taking in her surroundings.

"So then you're happy with just Vee?"

She made her way into the living room, taking a moment to nod at me over her shoulder. She stopped in front of the television, cocking her head at it and then looking around. I had half a mind to tell her how it worked, but I was reminded how foolish that was when she found the remote and began hitting buttons. Despite my own isolation, I had to keep telling myself these aliens had been out and about on Earth for the past twenty years. They must have been intimately familiar with all the little technological comforts humanity had: radios, televisions, computers, whatever -- and that's not even mentioning all the high-tech stuff I'm sure they brought with them. I doubted I would have to tell Vee how to use anything; she would know or be smart enough to figure it out.

Sure enough, she managed to get the television on and she sat back on the couch, coiling her tail beneath her as she watched. It was an old 37-inch CRT my grandparents had bought, thinking they were modernizing. In truth, they got it because it was cheapened by the arrival of affordable flat-screens around the early 2000s. It's only lasted so long because it hardly ever got any use. It looked sleek for its time, but now it was just a big grey box that only got two channels: the big 24/7 former ADVENT news station that had now been repurposed by the resistance, and a year-long-running pirate broadcast that played nothing but old black-and-whites. I guess tracking down the latter was never high up on ADVENT's priority list once the resistance started making bigger and bigger waves.

I didn't feel like eating alone, so I took my plate and glass into the living room and sat down on the recliner beside the couch, making sure to step over her tail as I walked by the center table. She flipped through both channels, then quickly went back to the news, which was now talking about something called the 'psionic network'. I listened as I ate. I had heard it mentioned once or twice before, but the name was about all I knew. Vee appeared rapt, however, her eyes glued to the screen while she languidly sprawled across the entire couch, leaving much of her tail hanging off of the far side. The way she sometimes moved her body while keeping her head still reminded me of a chicken.

"As resistance forces penetrate deeper and deeper into the defunct ADVENT network," said the field reporter, his face covered by a half-mask presumably meant to shield him from the smoke of the hellish scene behind him, "there appears to be mounting evidence worldwide that the psionic network -- used by ADVENT to communicate with its forces -- was in fact an insidious method of mental influence. Retributive campaigns across the globe have come across startlingly ineffective opposition, raising the question of whether or not the aliens know how to fight without their masters, or whether they even want to fight at all. Under the condition of anonymity, a resistance cell member spoke to us, saying, 'it's like they're all confused. They don't know what's going on. Nobody's pulling their strings anymore'. His claims appear to be backed up by numbers from X-COM itself, showing a sharp rise in alien detainees and concurrent drop in human casualties across the globe."

Vee sighed. At least, it sounded like a sigh. Maybe a hiss was the same as a sigh. I had no clue. Either way, afterwards she looked as if someone had lifted a weight from her shoulders. She sat up just a little straighter, her tongue darting rapidly as the report went on. The news had caught my interest now, as well. So what was being said? The aliens were slaves? That the enforcers were themselves being forced?

"Even now, there is a growing schism within resistance forces. An increasing number of fighters are advocating for attempts at rehabilitation, citing reports of some aliens striving to protect humans from the more violent of their kind, and of a place called City 31, where aliens and hybrids are allegedly being offered sanctuary among the primarily human population. We have been unable to gain access to this city, as thanks to its newfound publicity it has temporarily shut down all access in an attempt to keep out those who would seek to do harm. Other groups say to maintain the status quo and continue the campaign of extermination, that eliminating alien forces while they are seemingly disoriented is the way to permanent victory. For now it seems those wishing for extermination have the momentum, but for how long?  We just don't know. Daryl Weller, Resistance News Network."

The reporter cut away to one of the anchormen, who was interviewing someone that suddenly seemed unimportant in the wake of this new information. So all of the soldiers -- troopers, the vipers, the tall grinning ones with big eyes, everybody -- they were all forced labor?

"Was that you, Vee? Was that your life?" She spared me a quick glance, nothing more than an acknowledgement that she had heard me. After a moment's thought she looked again, her gaze lingering, and she slowly nodded. I finished the last of my dinner and asked, "What did it feel like?"

Her eyes wandered aimlessly around the room as she struggled with her thoughts. I had probably asked a question that required too complex of an answer given her apparent difficulty in making english sounds. I suppose she gave up because she just looked around one last time and shrugged, but then must have had some idea because her face lit up. She grabbed an old wind-up alarm clock from the table -- another of my grandparent's relics -- and wound the mechanism over and over before setting it on the table. A moment later and it began its irritating ringing. Vee held a hand out to it, as though it were representative of her thoughts.

I didn't quite understand what she was trying to tell me. Was it an irritating ringing in her head that told her to do this or that? Or was she just some sort of wind-up automaton that acted only when permitted by the Elders? Maybe the ringing was always there, and doing what she was told would lessen or eliminate it entirely. She must have seen my lack of understanding, the look of clueless thought on my face, because she just shrugged and left it at that.

I slapped the reset atop the ringer. "Well, you belong to nobody now. You're welcome to stay for as long as you like," I said, though my heart sank at the mere thought of her leaving.

Then immediately perked up again when I thought I saw what looked to be a hint of a smile. It was strange and different, but there was an unmistakable pull at the corners of her mouth. Maybe it really was a smile. Maybe it was some alien facial expression that was a smile-analogue, or maybe it was something else entirely, but it definitely looked like the start of a smile. It faded quickly and she instead bowed her head to me again.

"Yeah, sure. Don't mention it." I put my dish on the accent table beside the recliner and sat back to see her pointing. "What? Me? What about me?"

She nodded, then started to look around again. She zeroed in on the wind-up clock again. Grabbing it, she took a moment to check the time in the corner of the newscast and then set it on the clock and showed it to me; 9:57. She then wound it back one hour and showed it to me again. She could tell I was thinking it over, so she repeated it several more times, winding it forward and back, forward and back, each time hoping what she was trying to say would click in my brain. Current time. Past. Current. Past. Past and present.

"My past? You want to know about me?" She held her hands out as if expecting more. "There's not a whole lot to me, I'm afraid. I was born in Tennessee before the invasion, been here my whole life, and -- " I stopped she she looked a little confused. "Tennessee. It's a state. It used to be anyway, before ADVENT divvied up the country into three zones. Last time I saw a map on the television, it looked like this house was just outside the border of the, uh -- what do you call it -- I think I heard it referred to as the Eastern United States Trade Zone, or something else just as long-winded. Grew up pretty normal, went to school, fell into coding and programming, thought I was going to make a pretty good computer engineer or something before the invasion happened. Parents brought me and my brother out here once aliens started landing, and I've been here since."

She pointed past me this time, and I followed her finger to an old family photo sitting atop a dusty bookshelf in the far corner of the room. My parents smiled, each with their hands on their sons' shoulders. My grandparents stood on either side, smiling just as widely. I don't know why, but I think when that picture was taken -- that was when I first realized how old my grandparents were. How they wouldn't be around forever, how we had to try and make the good times last. Turns out they wouldn't last for much longer after that picture was taken.

"My family," I said as she made a grabbing motion. I handed it to her for a closer look. "My mom and dad, dad's parents on the sides, and me and my brother are the short ones. I'm the one with in the striped shirt. Grandparents never made it out here, and mom and dad died defending us." She waited for more, but when I kept quiet she tapped a claw against my brother's face.

I hesitated, something that drew her in even more. I didn't know whether or not to be honest about him. It wasn't only that I had little to say about him -- what if she harbored a grudge against the resistance and anyone even loosely associated with it? Even though I haven't seen him in so long, his decision might influence her attitude against me in some way. On the other hand, I was never a good liar, and being apart from other people for so long has surely made that even more noticeable. If I were to lie now, she would probably be able to tell. And then what questions might plague her? Why would I lie? What was I hiding?

I relented. "He left eight years ago to join the resistance. Haven't seen him since then, and I don't even know if he's alive." She looked at the picture a little harder, and I started to wonder if she had run into him before. But she only shrugged and handed the photo back to me. This time, I pointed at her. "What about you? What's in your past?"

She held her hands apart with only a short distance between them; not much, she seemed to be saying. She went back to the kitchen, fished something about of the garbage can, and slithered back to her seat to show me. In her hands she held two halves of a broken egg I had made for dinner. She held them together and broke them apart several times to make sure I understood. I did, and she must have seen it in my eyes because she moved onto the next part of her life -- signified by finger guns.

"You were hatched and then...they made you start fighting? Or they taught you to fight?" She energetically pointed at me upon my second guess. "How long ago were you hatched?"

She thrust up two fingers and then a balled up fist. She was just twenty years old. That was when I realized she was only as old as the invasion. The horrible thought crossed my mind that she had been hatched specifically to fight a war. Hell, she had probably been born right here on Earth. She had not been a soldier by unfortunate circumstance, some poor child born at just the wrong time to be drafted to take part in a planetary occupation, who might've led a normal life under different circumstances. No, her life had been laid out by the Elders well before she had ever been born. They had envisioned a soldier, and a soldier is what they had made.

Only now the war was over, and there were no more masters.

"Well, nobody is going to force you to fight anymore, so what you do from here on out is for you to decide," I told her, getting up to wash my dish in the sink. I collected hers from the table as I passed it by. "I don't know if you've heard it before, but there's an old saying: tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life."

As I washed the dishes I threw a glance over my shoulder to see her looking at the floor, her hands folded in her lap. Or, I guess it would be her lap, since she had a tail instead of legs. I quietly chuckled to myself; she was more human than she knew, or perhaps the daunting prospect of figuring out one's purpose is a universal challenge that all intelligent beings grapple with.

"Don't think so hard about it. You just sort of -- you know, take it day by day. I'll tell you what," I said as she looked up at me, "go get yourself cleaned up. You've been here a day, you must have been on the run for a couple weeks at the last. If you like there's a full bathroom across from the room you're staying--" I stopped. That sounded wrong, so I tried again. "Across from your room, I mean. Take a shower and get cleaned up. You'll feel better. Trust me."

She seemed to lighten up at the thought. Out there for as long as she was, she must have had a ton of grime between those scales of hers. I knew for a fact the only running water nearby was a small stream to the east, but the water wasn't exactly what I would call clean. I might've used it to soak a rag and wipe my forehead or cool my neck, but I would never have submerged myself it in, nor used it near my eyes or mouth without boiling it for longer than usual. Even if she had found it during her escape, I doubted it would have made much difference. Clean water, though, could be therapeutic. Wash away the grit and grime, and sometimes wash away the weight of the day and the challenges it may have brought.

"There's towels already in there and the left knob is hot water," I said as she slid upstairs, "but go easy on it. It never lasts as long as you want it to. The dresser in your room is chock full of clothes. My brother was sort of a tank of a man; as big as they are, I don't know if any of his shirts will fit over your hood. You may have to stretch or tear one, that's fine. If you need anything else, I'll still be up for a little while longer. I've got to check the server in the basement, make sure the updates I fed it a few days ago are sticking. After that I'll head to bed."

She disappeared, and I continued to clean up. I had the dishes done and had just begun to package the left-overs when I heard the muffled roar of water rushing through the pipes, quickly followed by the patter of water. Next there were a series of heavy thuds that made me wince; I surmised she must have removed her armor pieces and they might have left a few dents in the tile with how heavy they sounded. I quickly decided it didn't matter in the least next to this indescribable relief I felt.

Relative to the deathly silence of living alone, this was an absolute delightful commotion. I couldn't have been happier. Doing some simple chores while another part of the house was noisy with life made the house feel lived in, instead of it simply being a place that I happened to live in. A part of me I had nearly forgotten slowly came to life again; a feeling I hadn't experienced since the last happy moment my brother and I had shared who knew how long ago. The rational side of my brain was shouting at me -- don't get attached, don't expect her here tomorrow, don't share so much of yourself -- but next to the racket I heard upstairs, it may as well have been barely a whisper.

-Chapter 5-

I woke up feeling refreshed and well-rested for the first time in days. No hazy dreams that felt like hallucinations, no frustrating teasing of what it meant to belong to a bigger picture anymore -- just a deep, satisfying slumber. I slapped my alarm clock, then realized it was already silent. I had woken up five minutes early. Didn't matter to me. I cancelled the alarm, got dressed, and walked out into the hall.

Vee's door was already open, though the room was still dark. I softly called her name but got no response, so I flicked the light on. The bed was neatly made, and some of the dresser drawers were open with a few unfolded shirts scattered inside. A sinking feeling in my gut began to spoil my good morning, but it was then I saw her armor methodically arranged in the corner of the room. The chest piece leaned against the wall, its oddly-shaped and segmented tail piece stretching out further onto the floor, while the segments that covered the top of her hood and neck seemed to fold down into the armor piece itself. The arms were arranged on each side, leaning against the chest. My gut-wrenching worry ebbed; if she had left, surely she would have taken her armor with her.

I heard noise as I approached the top of the stairs, noise that became clearer as I descended; it was the television. I came down to find Vee curled up in front of the screen, close enough to make me think of all the times my parents had told me to sit back, lest I ruined my eyes. She was surrounded by a handful of books, all arranged around her such that she needed only turn her head to read any of them. I slowly crept up to take a peek and saw they were dictionaries, encyclopedias, and even a few children's books. She had to have gotten them from the bookcase in the corner, in front of which sat another pile taken from the shelves. Grandma never could let go of our kid stuff.

She was wearing one of my brother's old t-shirts; one of his favorites during his teenage metal phase -- influenced by dad, of course. The Metallica logo was emblazoned across the front in that ubiquitous chrome-looking font that seemed to grace every piece of branded clothing from around dad's time. In the television's soft glow I could see a few stretch marks around the neck. She must have fought with it a little bit to fit it over her hood but in all, the shirt seemed no worse for wear. It hung loosely on her chest and torso while her arms appeared unable to fully fill out the sleeves. Despite her overall size, I guess her upper body was just a bit smaller than my brother's.

"You been up long?"

"Yes," she said with a short hiss on the end, refusing to pull her attention from the screen. Her gaze seemed fixed on the mouth of whatever pundit was currently on-screen. She wasn't paying attention to headlines or the scrolling ticker at the bottom.

I had been expecting a nod. Her answer caught me by complete surprise and left me momentarily stunned. "You can talk now?"

"Better. Learn." She used her tail to spin some of the children's books to face me. One of which I recognized on closer inspection; my grandmother had used it to teach me how to speak more clearly as a young man. It had complex words for a child, along with some cut-away drawings of a person's mouth making the required sounds. Whether the tongue was pressing on the roof of the mouth or back of the teeth, what shape the lips should take -- it showed things like that.

"So, how's it going?"

She pointed at the talking head, her natural scowl shifting to a merely frustrated frown. "Speaks fast."

I felt bad in that moment, like I had the upper hand in a one-sided relationship. A friendship was built on compromise and effort, neither of which I felt like I was putting forth. It shouldn't have been all on Vee to bridge the communication gap between us. "I can learn more ADVENT. I know a little bit already from what used to be on the news--"

"ADVENT. Not mine," she stuttered. Each syllable was slow and very carefully thought out, as though she had to construct the word in her mouth before it made its way past her lips. Her speech was breathy and forced, as though she was exhaling every word instead of speaking it. It seemed she had an issue with hard consonants, specifically ones that required the tongue pressed against a full set of teeth. She could adapt, but it would require practice.

"Oh. So then, what's your language? Could I learn it?"

"Dowd. Full. Dowd -- doubt," she said, finally managing to get the hard 't' sound. "Doubt. Full."

"All right then," I said, turning the books she had moved back around to face her, "is there anything I can do to help?"

Vee looked at the television disapprovingly, then spun the coils of her body, shifting around to face me. She picked the dictionary up off the floor, handed it to me, and said "Talk slow."

I started reading words at random. I felt like a fool, to be honest; a natural speaker's reaction to a non-native is usually to talk slowly, but I had always thought it was a useless gesture. Speaking English slowly to someone that did not understand English would not make things easier on them. Her issue was not one of understanding, however -- based on the ease with which she understood me, it was clear she had a good vocabulary. Her sole issue was vocalization. With a vastly different tongue and mouth, she would have to move them in slightly different ways to produce the same sounds as me. So for about the next hour, she just sat and watched -- maybe a little too close for comfort, not that I would say anything -- as I read from the dictionary. She asked me to repeat almost every word several times, not for lack of understanding but for getting a handle on what my mouth was doing. She would dissect each syllable into its component sounds, deconstructing difficult words piecemeal until she was able to string together each syllable almost as naturally as a native speaker.

She would copy as best she could, and I would attempt to explain what it was my tongue was doing behind my lips as I pronounced this syllable or that. I wasn't a great teacher, but it was obvious she was an excellent student. I began to suspect that her intelligence was not just equal to mine, but greater. If not in general than certainly with respect to language. I had Spanish-speaking friends during my middle- and high-school years for long enough to understand some of the vocabulary, but I was never able to sloppily string together more than a few words, even after a few classes. But here she was merely watching me speak and already she was getting a grasp on the specifics.

I would have been happy to sit there all day and help her, but when I glanced at the television and saw what time it was, I had to stop. The chickens were probably getting ornery. Ever since Vee's first visit their feeding times have been more and more inconsistent. I let her know and she shut off the television, slid all of the books -- still open to whatever page they were on -- to one side of the room, and uncoiled herself to follow me outside.

We made our way to the chicken coop and I showed her how to read the display panel and all of its read-outs: temperature, water, air flow, humidity. Each of them had an acceptable range, and so long as the values were in those ranges, no changes were needed. While I was talking she quickly devised how to work the feed dispenser and filled the bucket up, then tried to hand it off to me.

"Be my guest," I said. She looked uneasily at the door. "Don't worry about it. They're chickens. They've got short memories, and whoever's got the food is their best friend. Just head on in, grab handfuls of the stuff and throw it around in little piles."

Of course I was right. The chickens didn't care one bit and seemed to have entirely forgotten the night they had met Vee, silently cowering in the corner as she and I had shared our tense initial greeting. Vee scooped out giant handfuls of feed and drew lines on the ground with it, observing with intense interest how the chickens would follow whatever shapes she created. It almost looked as if she was having fun. Usually her movements appeared reserved and calculated -- perhaps to avoid startling me or something -- but here she was lively and quick. I couldn't tell if she was trying to keep beaks and talons away from her tail or if she was just enjoying herself. She went back to being careful and slow around the chicks, though. I guess she was afraid of hurting them, small as they were.

In short order the feed was all on the ground and we moved on, with me explaining that I liked to get most of my daily routine out of the way in the morning so I wouldn't be out during the hottest part of the day. We circled around to the back of the house, where I had some water barrels and my garden directly adjacent to them. The barrels were mostly empty -- it hadn't rained for about two weeks, so I was sparingly using reserves and the well -- but had more than enough in them to fill the pressure-pump container I used to water the garden. Vee seemed curious again, so I talked her through it, even as simple as it was. I didn't want to drown the plants; a simple drizzle would do, enough to wet the leaves and soak the dirt.

She gently took the pump from my hands and followed my lead, doing as I had done. As she worked I saw she would often steal quick glances my way, and when I would notice she would immediately turn her attention back to the task at hand. Her hesitant nature triggered a bothersome feeling I couldn't shake. Was she waiting for something? Did she want me to say good job, keep it up, you're doing great -- did she want approval? For what possible reason? My thoughts wormed their way into some dark places that I didn't like in the least.

"Vee," I said, waiting for her to look at me, "I'm not going to say no to help around the house. I just want you to know my good will towards you does not hinge on you being useful to me. You get what I'm saying?"

She straightened up immediately, towering over me, and that natural scowl of hers cracked and softened into a blank stare that sure looked to me like shock. I wasn't certain if it was, but I knew I had caught her off guard. She had that deer-in-headlights look about her. She stood frozen to the spot for some moments, barely so much as swaying in the wind, before offering a timid nod.

"I'm just happy to have somebody -- anybody around," I said, looking down to kick the dirt. Admitting the obvious after almost a decade still took a chunk out of my pride. I spent all that time thinking I was some kind of strong for isolating myself -- that I didn't need anyone else, that I could take care of myself, that I could somehow outlast the horrors of alien occupation. Maybe I was in some way to have lasted as long as I did, but I guess I was also kind of stupid for thinking there'd be no downsides, no side-effects. Even now, like termites constantly eating away at my insides, I still had the cavernous pit at the bottom of my gut and the persistent whispering in the back of my mind that made me wonder if I was weak for wanting to socialize again. I wondered when -- if ever -- I would get the chance to prove that side of me wrong. "Being alone sucks, to be honest."

Her posture slackened and her movements thereafter were carefree and languid, as if she were made of liquid. She must have felt like a freeloader all this time, afraid at any second I'd just kick her out. Which itself was a funny thought; she was stronger than me in every way. I know from experience that people pushed too far in survival situations will do what they must, and I didn't feel like testing to see how much she liked me.

After breakfast, she still insisted on helping around the house. We emptied what was left of the water barrels into the reservoir in the basement and set them back outside; it looked like some rain was on the horizon, so that was good. Afterwards I took her to the generator on the opposite side of the house. I had her yank the tarp back to uncover the solar panel and she angled it to best capture the light from the sun, now nearly entirely in the air. I washed some clothes and had her take the ones already on the line down.

The rest of the morning was spent doing chores inside. The server needed its daily maintenance, piece of garbage that it was. While I did that she picked up the pellets I had removed from her body last night -- marveling, no doubt, at how primitive a thing as a ball bearing was used as a weapon compared to the high-tech rifles I knew ADVENT had -- and straightened everything out on the shelves. It wasn't needed but she probably just wanted to look busy. Since we were already in the basement, I took inventory of how much food was left. Now that two people were living here, supplies would dwindle twice as quickly. Once I had the numbers I'd see how much faster we were running through food and water and adjust the daily routines accordingly. Power was never an issue, thanks to the solar generator; it was more than enough to keep a light on or two while running the the various appliances in the house. I could count on one hand the number of times I had mistakenly drained it, and that was before I had learned what the generator's capabilities were.

We just relaxed for the rest of the day. Our chores done, I joined her in the living room where she had the television on again, but not so much interest in the books. I supposed she had grown tired of the news because she was watching the pirate broadcast -- the one of old black-and-whites. Casablanca, From Here to Eternity, and A Streetcar Named Desire were common reruns, but every few months the channel would run a new one. Currently they were running Frankenstein, which had an iron-grip on Vee's attention; she seemed more interested in the story than she did in watching how the character's mouths moved. Did she feel like a made monster, where Earth was the small sleepy village that hated her when all she wanted was to be left alone?

Vee pretty much mainlined black-and-whites until dinner. While she was in the middle of Casablanca I made off to the basement to grab something very special from the freezers, which I took to the kitchen and left in a pot of lukewarm water. By the time the movie was over and the next had begun, the bag was mostly defrosted and I began pulling out a few ingredients that I made very sparse use of. Most of my garden space was taken up by essentials, so growing herbs and spices was a luxury I was seldom able to afford myself. I always wanted to expand the garden, but more gardening meant more water usage, so I always held off.

I had barely started to prep the meal when I felt her presence behind me, shortly followed by her shadow ominously encroaching upon the kitchen counter, enveloping my workspace. I swore I could hear her tongue going crazy. I guess she used hers to smell, just like Earth snakes did.

"Have you ever had chicken before?"

"No."

I popped open each container, handing them to Vee for her to smell. "Thyme, rosemary, garlic. Here, I think this one is basil. Or oregano. Shoot, now I've got them mixed up. Anyway, any of them you don't like? Anything smell weird to you?"

She went for another round of each, holding them below her face as her tongue lashed in and out. Her upper lip curled just slightly for two. "Thyme. Garlic."

"Okay, rosemary and basil it is." I stripped the leaves of the former from their stems and handed the dried, crumbling basil to Vee. She was unsure of what to do and stood there with a blank stare. "It's dry because it lasts longer that way. You should just be able to crumble it up with your hands," I said, using tongs to pull chicken parts out of the bag and placing them on a baking sheet. "Just put it between your hands and roll it like so -- like you're trying to start a fire with sticks. Do it over the chicken so you're sprinkling it all over as you go. But wait, before you do that--" I took some leftover vegetable soup broth from the fridge and drizzled some over each piece. it would offer some mild flavor and would make the seasoning stick.

She did as I instructed while I diced the rosemary. She was keen to watch me as I moved the knife with practiced ease. My mother had been the family cook, and she taught the rest of us how to get things done in the kitchen. Dinner was always a family affair back in the day, before and after the invasion. Everybody was always happiest then, with mom running the kitchen like a head chef as the rest of us each manned a station. My brother and I usually dealt with chopping and dicing, while dad was on sauce duty. Mom was always the last one in the kitchen, combining everything we had made while we waited for it all to come together. That was the sole remnant my brother and I had clung to when our parents had died. No matter how much we argued, no matter what disagreement had dominated the day, all of our troubles just melted away in the kitchen, like butter. We might pick up our yelling and shouting afterwards, but dinner was sacred and neither of us wanted to ruin a good meal with any animosity.

The chicken, now sporting a healthy helping of herbs, went into the preheated oven. Vee stared expectantly, her eyes darting to the oven, to me, then back again.

"Relax. It'll take a little while. Let's just go back to the movie and it'll be done before you know it."

Despite my advice, however, it was impossible to ignore the aroma that swept through the house, that seemed to so heavy it threatened to soak into the very walls. My mouth was watering the second I got my first whiff. Vee's...well, whatever her deal was, she couldn't keep her attention on the movie; she'd lean back every five seconds to get a better look inside the kitchen, and I could all but hear her thinking 'is it done yet' over and over. For her, it was the promise of something new and exciting that she hadn't even known existed. For me, it was the memories of a happy past that I had done my best to suppress to remind myself being alone wasn't so bad. I had been successful in doing just that when by myself, but with Vee in the house, those feelings became too much to ignore. It was times like this I realized how easy it was to confuse stoic strength with desolate denial.

The chicken was done after what felt like ages. Vee seemed coiled like a spring, and the moment I sat up she was right there beside me in lockstep -- or lock-slither. Whatever. I had the good sense to set the table before making a plate. Two plates, two forks. Maybe with the utensils out already she'd be more inclined to use them.

The chicken was most certainly done, and it could not have been more perfect. The skin was just beginning to turn golden brown, dry enough to have just a hint of crunch but still moist and holding in the flavor of the herbs and broth. They came right off the pan, their resting sides barely darker. We had nearly the whole chicken: two legs, thighs, wings, but just one breast. I had eaten that for my birthday two months ago. I split it up, giving her the lion's share; she was bigger anyway, never mind the fact I had already had some of the chicken. When she noticed the difference between her plate and mine, she paused.

"Less," she said, pointing at my plate as I sidled past her to sit at the table.

"It's all right. I had some of my share earlier in the year." She stood rigidly, her eyes locked onto her plate. "Vee, seriously. I'll be fine. Enjoy it."

Only at my insistence did she finally relent, and she slid on over to the opposite side of the table with her dish. She carefully inspected the mound of chicken in front of her, poking and prodding as her tongue constantly tasted the air. She rubbed away the grease that stuck to her finger, then did it all over again.

I watched as she slipped both hands under either side of the plate, and before she could shovel the whole thing into her mouth, I said, "It'll last a lot longer if you just take little bites. And you don't want to eat the bones."

She stopped but only looked at the fork, as though still considering her options. Though with unexpected confidence, she picked it up and got right to it. I guess I had been expecting a moment of thought from her, some pause as she figured out what to do. There was, of course, only one way to use a fork, but I just hadn't expected her to know right away. I supposed it just added the surreality of it all. An alien snake in my house, eating chicken with a fork, while wearing a slightly over-sized Metallica t-shirt, while sitting at the table. With me. The part of my mind that had thought it had worked out long ago what was and wasn't normal was still trying to figure this one out.

Her first bite looked almost cathartic, and the overwhelming emotion in her reaction was so obvious I nearly laughed out loud. She savored the first bite for a while, then apparently decided that there was no way to get the rest in her stomach fast enough, and her pace quickened. She ate strangely. Every time she brought a forkful of chicken to her mouth, her forked tongue would slip out and wrap around it before it disappeared inside entirely.

"So, Vee," I said between bites, "What did you do, y'know -- during the war? Like, you understand me, we can talk pretty well, you've got a handle on human gestures. Were you around humans a lot?" She stopped, gulped down her latest mouthful, and seemed apprehensive. "I'm not asking -- I mean, I know. It was a war. That's not what I'm getting at. I'm just wondering--"

"Tracker. Hunt. Observe. Engage," she said, downing her glass of water all at once. She held her hands in circles around her eyes. "Observed. Long time." She added with a slight shrug before diving back into her dinner. She only got a few bites more before she stopped and asked, "You? During war."

"I'm no fighter. My brother was, which caused a lot of tension between us. He wasn't happy just surviving; he wanted to join the resistance, which he did one day. Just up and left, leaving only a note behind explaining his intentions. I didn't know what to do with myself, so I just stayed put. Been here about twenty years, totally alone for the last eight before you came along. Just, you know -- taking it one day at a time." Her posture drooped and her features softened. What could it be? Pity? Ridicule? "It wasn't all bad. Never had ADVENT come knocking on my door, never lost my chickens or my life. Waking up each day was a win in my book. Unlike my brother. Some people live to serve, and some just want to live."

At that she let go of a sort of chuffing noise, a quick grunt-like sound that ended in a subdued hiss, and the corners of her mouth pulled back slightly. Was that a laugh? "Hatched. To serve," she said with a hand on her chest.

An alien snake with the start of a sense of humor. Another thing to add to the list of surreality.

Her head whipped up, her eyes tracking up the stairs before slowly scanning the kitchen ceiling. She pinpointed a spot and just kept staring, her eyes narrowing.

"What?"

"Noise," she hissed. I cocked my head and listened, trying hard to separate the television from whatever it was she was hearing. After straining for a few moments, I heard it too. My heart stopped. It was the perimeter alarm.

"Shit, something's crossed the property line," I said, shooting up from my seat. normally I would not have been so alarmed, but the most recent breaches were all things far larger and more dangerous than a fox. I had only been lucky that no ill intentions had come with my recent visitors. Whatever it was out there, I had no clue how close it was. Was it walking or sprinting? Was it bee-lining for the house or just skirting along the edge of the property? Was there hostile intent this time or mere curiosity?

"Get the hell out here, ADVENT!" someone shouted at the top of their lungs. The color drained from my face. By the voice alone any idiot could tell there was hatred. What curdled my blood more was that I felt as if I recognized the voice, which could only have meant it was one of the men from days ago. Why would they have come back? What could possibly have them furious with me? Even considering the circumstances I had been kind, courteous, hospitable when we had met -- everything a person should be. Why would they call me ADVENT? Minus the server in the basement, I thought I came off pretty well as stereotypically simple countryfolk.

Vee whipped herself out from around the table, her head sunken low to the floor like a predator on the hunt, or a soldier desperate for cover. She found the latter by pressing herself to the kitchen-living room adjoining wall, where she stayed low to the ground with her upper body seemingly perched upon her fingertips, trying her hardest to peek around the corner and through the front window. The pair of stark white lights shone through, scanning for anything inside.

"Vee," I whispered, my throat tight and hoarse from fear. Her attention snapped to me. "Get my gun. In my room, beneath the bed, left side. It's fully loaded. Just in case."

She looked worriedly at the window painted by flashlight, then back to me. "Don't."

That she could so easily infer my course of action spoke to a perception of hers that I had so far missed, or to the ease with which I spilled my guts to a stranger. Either way, her desperately shaking her head did nothing to deter me.

"I'm not ADVENT," I shouted back, watching Vee slither noiseless across the floor to the stairs. "I'm coming out unarmed. Please don't shoot, okay? We can talk."

I slowly rose to my feet and approached the front door, where through the sidelights I could see the flashlights were now focused. That there were just two beams of light outside made me worry. If it was the three men from before -- and it had to be -- where was the third?

"I'm coming out," I said, cracking the door just enough to wave my hand outside. With no response I slid fully outdoors, shielding my eyes from the bright white lights. My eyes took what felt like hours to adjust, but sure enough two men stood not twenty yards off. I squinted to make use of what little light dusk had left to offer and saw exactly what I had expected. There were my last visitors. Eric, the asian fellow, and -- if memory served, the black man with the thick accent was Gerard. But one was missing.

"Where's Donovan?"

"You shut your goddamned mouth," Eric spat. He was clearly shaken. Not by anger, but something else had happened. His jacket had a few new holes in it, and his light blue jeans had a deep scarlet slash running down the outside of his left leg. He held his flashlight in his armpit, seemingly struggling with both hands to point his weapon directly at me. Gerard followed suit with aim just as shaky as his friends. He, too, looked like he'd been through hell, dirt and mud caked into his clothing as if he'd been crawling through it for days, and one of the shoulder straps of his backpack was hanging by a literal thread. The entire side of his left arm looked shredded pretty bad, like he'd caught a bunch of birdshot. Or shrapnel.

"What the hell happened to you guys?"

"As if you don't know," Eric said, venom coursing through his words. "You sent us into an ambush. You knew!"

Already I felt as if the situation had gotten away from me and I had the gnawing thought I had just bitten off more than I could ever hope to chew. "Into a what? How could I have done that? God's sake, why would I have done that?"

"'Cause your a dirty collaborator, is why. The set-up was too perfect. They knew we were coming, and we know who you've got inside," Gerard said, smiling as the worrying realization spread across my face. "Yeah, that's right. We saw you playing house with your filthy alien master all morning. After popping open your skull, we'll skin that scaley bitch alive."

We'd barely spoken for a minute. I didn't know where to start. My head swam with a thousand things to say and at the end of each sentence I just saw my own death. I thought I would have had more time, more chances, more things to say. I thought they would have been more reasonable. As the seconds passed, I suddenly couldn't believe I thought I ever had a chance. Vee had known from the start I was walking into a hopeless situation.

"You guys have it all wrong! There was no -- I didn't know there was anyone north of here, let alone ADVENT! And she's not so bad, I swear she doesn't--"

Before I could even finish my life flashed before my eyes and the world seemed to freeze at the exact moment before my death. Gerard's stance changed; his body leaned forward and his arms braced, and his expression of grim determination gave way to a bared-tooth look of senseless fury. Eric's finger clawed for the trigger and I felt my body crumple and jerk backwards, as if I were being folded at the waist.

The house flew past me, and as I tumbled backwards I saw a myriad of holes punched into the door, splintering the wood and shattering the sidelights into tiny pieces. I hit the floor hard and immediately scrambled to find where I'd been shot, tearing at my clothing like it was on fire. Was this how it was supposed to feel? Were gunshots that powerful that they could propel me halfway into my house? Where was the pain? Where was the blood? Was it shock dulling my reaction?

"Torch it all!" More broken glass. A muffled roar.

Cold metal thrust into my hands snapped me out of my confusion, and I saw Vee passing my gun off to me as an impossibly long tongue -- longer than I had ever even thought possible -- released my waist and snaked its way back entirely into her mouth.

The gun was heavier than I remembered. I knew I had to use it. I knew that I knew how to use it. But it was so heavy, like I was trying to carry a boulder. I didn't have the effort. The effort wasn't -- wouldn't be needed, though. I was as human as they were. We had the same enemy. The fight was over. Why keep killing? I could fix this. I could fix it all, they can be reasonable. They would see. I don't need to kill anybody, nobody had to get hurt--

An angry-sounding hiss blew hotly against my face, and a pair of scaled hands snatched the gun back from me. A few more thunderous gunshots. Silence, then sounds like snapping twigs. A strangled cry. That dull roar only grew in intensity. All of this could be fixed. I knew it could. It might take time, but everything would work out. It had worked out for twenty years, I could make it last forever.

I gasped when a hand slapped against my shoulder, only to cough and sputter when the only thing I could breathe in was smoke. Vee dragged me around the corner into the foyer and towards the front door, past the living room entirely awash in blue and orange flames. The books my grandmother had saved from my childhood -- gone. The pictures arranged atop the fireplace, the faces I always tried to avoid looking at -- gone. The ancient television popped and crackled before its screen exploded outwards, showering the couch and recliner in glass and causing wisps of flame to jump into the kitchen. Everything I possessed and had ever known for two decades was going up in smoke.

The view from the yard was so much worse. The second floor was already on fire. I could see the hole that had been smashed through the window by whatever it was they had thrown inside. The chicken coop had probably lit up in an instant and burned even more furiously than the house; the burning electronics inside produced an acrid scent that stung my nose. The camo netting, with all the dead branches and foliage strewn throughout, was perfect tinder. Before Vee, those birds had been the only living things I had spoken to for years. Now they were gone, too. Holly, Marlene, Judy, Cathy, Iris, Penny, Harvey -- not to mention all the chicks. Poof. Gone in what I always imagined would be one of the worst ways to go.

Vee swept her tail around my feet and yanked be back, forcing me onto the ground. I hadn't even known my legs were trying to carry me back inside. Twenty years of my life up in smoke in a heartbeat. If I had answered the door with a gun, would I still have it all? The pictures I couldn't stand looking at for the memories they stirred up -- would they still be there? Would all the trinkets and nonsense my grandparents had saved throughout the years still be there? Everything my parents had fought for to ensure our survival in a terrible and unfamiliar new world -- the chickens, the generator, the food, the garden -- could I have kept it all?

Ultimately, I guessed not. Answering the door with a gun I had no intention of using was just the same as answering without one at all.

The raging fire's light kept the dark night from closing in. I couldn't do anything to stop the flames, nor could I hold back my tears any longer. They fell like rain, and clutching my knees to my chest as tightly as I could just made the sobbing hurt worse. I don't remember much beyond that; at some point I thought I felt Vee gently coil her tail around me as I watched the flames through watery eyes. I cried out every ounce of energy left in me, until exhaustion took hold and I fell asleep.

-Chapter 6-

I couldn't believe I had fallen asleep at all. It had been deep and dreamless, like my body had shut down entirely to recharge and devoted every bit of effort only towards that end. When I woke and saw the ruins of my life still there waiting for me, I hopelessly wished I could have just stayed sleeping.

The entire house was gone. Nothing remained except a smoldering mess of wood. The only way anybody would ever be able to tell it was once a house was the front steps and rear face still partially stood, a charred, ghastly skeleton of its former self. The chicken coop was an even more total loss; nothing was left standing. It was mostly just a pile of ashes, the tallest piece left barely reaching up to my knees. The smoke still rose high into the blue, cloudless morning sky, and only then did I realize that the rain I thought I had saw coming yesterday never showed.

Where did I go from here? What was I supposed to do? I bet Adam would have known. Then again, he never would have done what I had done. He would've run upstairs, grabbed the gun, and nailed them both from an open window before they had even finished their first sentence. My brother, the eager killer. He always knew what to do, even if I never agreed with it. He would've protected the house. But he also would have put Vee down the moment she had shown up.

Would that have been so bad? Insidious whispers grew in the back of my mind, showing me images of false hope; Vee shows up and is immediately put down, those resistance guys drop by, collect her body, and the house remains. My life would remain.

Something slick and cool brushed against my ankle. Vee had encircled me with the end of her tail, as if I was sitting inside of a thick hula-hoop. She leaned over to check on me. I couldn't bear to look her in the eyes with those horrible thoughts swirling around in my head, and started to cry again. How could I think anything of the sort? She did not threaten me. She did not coerce or entice me. Everything up to now had been my own choices, my own mistakes. In fact, the only thing she had irrefutably done was save my life. I'd have been riddled with bullets if she hadn't pulled me from the doorway when she did, with that unusual whip-like tongue of hers.

But what to do with that life?

"I have nothing left."

Vee looked at me with what I supposed was as much pity as she could squeeze out of that inherent frown of hers. She unmistakably sighed and joined me in looking at the ruins, then tried lifting me up by my arms. I didn't have much for energy and was loathe to rise to my feet, but did so at her insistence. Only when she began to pull me towards the smoking bones of the house did I feel the dam in my head breaking, straining too hard to hold back the awful mixed swell of emotion.

"I have nothing!" She stopped, recoiling at my sudden outburst. "Nothing! It's gone, okay? The chickens, food, water, everything! There's nothing left. For me or for you."

I hadn't meant to yell at her, but more at the universe in general. I wanted to say it was only because my throat was dry and tight that I felt as if I had to force the words out, but I knew better. So did she, which was why she immediately left me alone and dejectedly made her own way to the house. I just fell to my knees, looking at the dirt and wondering why things had to have happened as they did. The self-pity made me feel like even more of a weakling, a feeling that did not abate after getting back on my feet, so I began to shuffle forwards. Even though I knew where I was heading, it wasn't really on purpose. Everything just felt automatic at this point.

My feet hit the bottom step of the front porch, the sudden jolt shifting a layer of ash across its surface. It took a moment to gather the strength I thought I would need to see it all up close, then slowly scanned over the debris. It was all a jagged mess of splintered wood burnt pitch black and sickly gray; at some point the supports must have given way and the entire second floor had just collapsed, bringing down the entire structure. Beneath the mess I thought I saw recognizable shapes: what remained of the old television, the fireplace mantel, the heavily-warped carcass of the refrigerator. I even saw a reflective sliver of the mirror that had decorated the foyer. It was dulled and charred, but the glinting light made it easier to spot.

Through a broken window on the still-standing rear-facing panel, I saw Vee disinterestedly digging around before continuing on. Thinking I may have owed her an apology, I left the porch and slowly walked around the house to join her, kicking little bits of wood along the way. She saw me coming, as much as she pretended not to. Whether to spite me or just to try and give me space, I couldn't tell. If the former, I deserved it.

"I didn't mean to yell," I said. Her look spoke volumes. "Okay, but I didn't mean to yell at you. I've got a lot going on in my head and I don't know what to do with it. I'm sorry if it came off as being mad at you. I know you saved my life and despite how it looks right now, I am thankful for that. I mean -- thank you."

"Come," she hissed, gently pulling me by the arm towards the cellar doors already thrown open. Curiously, the interior side looked largely untouched by any sort of damage. The blue paint had bubbled in only a few places and the metal doors didn't show any sign of melting, nor they blackened in the least. On the far side of the cellar entrance was a small pile made up of flashlights, some blankets and clothing, and a few first aid kits, among other things one could label essential. Even an old hiking backpack I hadn't seen since the last time my brother and I had gone camping with granddad.

"This came out of the cellar?"

"Yes," she said, watching as I went down a couple steps to take a peek. At first glance, the inside looked like a complete disaster, same as the rest of the house. The concrete had done an admirable job, all things considered. There was an enormous hole in the ceiling where the house had caved in on itself, spilling down into and filling up most of the basement with wreckage. But the walls still held. Yellowed from the top down by the fire and most likely brittle, but they were still up. Around the perimeter of the basement was mostly more of the same mess, but a few shelves had merely been displaced, not crushed, and their contents lay scattered across the floor. I could see a few bins full of clothing and blankets, one of the large first-aid kits along with several of the home-made ones. A few packs of batteries lay scattered about, and I could even see one of my freezers looking in fair condition.

"Food inside. Not good," Vee said, following my gaze. Just when I thought there'd been some luck on our side, but of course the power had gone out. I saw the generator around back -- or what had been left of it.

"Hang on, you went in there?"

"Yes," she said, and before I could get another word out she slipped past me and into the jagged jungle of wood and metal. I could scarcely breathe watching her fit through gaps and holes that seemed too small for her to maneuver, afraid that even the slightest sound would somehow disturb her concentration or maybe cause something else to collapse atop of her. She carefully slithered her way through, moving slowly to avoid catching her shirt on anything, scooping up loose items that could be of use. It was almost as if she could flatten or otherwise compress her body to fit through spaces that would otherwise be impassible. With her hands full she made her way back to me, and I realized I had actually been holding my breathe the entire time.

"Please don't go back in there."

She dropped her haul with the rest of the stuff. "Useful."

"Dangerous. You see the yellow coloring on the walls? That's what fire does to concrete - turns it brittle. It's standing now but you don't know for how long."

"Safe." She slid past me yet again, too fast for me to catch her by the arm or shoulder, and I nearly had half a mind to try and yank her back by her tail. But again she crawled in, gliding over obstacles with ease as she collected everything she could into her arms, and again my breath hitched solidly in my throat like stone. She gently yanked on the tattered edges of what I first thought was a green blanket, but turned out to be a sleeping bag. It eventually gave, but not before the metal it had been pinned under groaned threateningly, like a beast slowly awakening. The sound gave her pause, and after a moment spent frozen in time, she took the continued silence as her cue to exit.

"Please stop. It's not worth it."

She dropped her things onto the pile and took quick inventory, her eyes darting to every trinket gathered so far. "Need it."

"For what?"

"Travel."

My heart sank into my gut. I had entertained the possibility, in the depths of my sadness and anger, that Vee would leave. It honestly made sense, no matter how much I wished it didn't. I had no more food, water, or shelter -- things she obviously wanted. As much as I wished she would stay, I knew she wouldn't. Now she was just taking what she needed to help her find the next spot to settle down at. Were these her true colors? Had I just been a rest stop with a continental breakfast this whole time? I was powerless to stop her, even if I wanted to. Her latest venture had turned out to be a bust, and now she was salvaging what she could to help her find her next place to call home.

"Oh," I barely whispered, crossing my legs beneath me. "Where will you go?"

"We."

That woke me up about as well as a faceful of cold water. "What do you mean, 'we'?"

She stopped counting the batteries and flashlights, and placed the last first-aid kit on the ground next to the others. Her eyes slowly flitted about, not really focusing on anything in particular but still seemingly searching. Her tongue slipped out to slowly taste the air, then she locked eyes with me. "Being alone sucks."

She wasn't simply parroting me and her tone was deadly serious. I could tell she was honestly speaking for herself, but to hear my own words come back to me when I had least expected them left me speechless for ages. Food, water, shelter -- things she clearly wanted. Was company among them too? I wanted so badly to just say yes, I'll go, but my thoughts were tethered too strongly to my home of twenty years, to the place I had thought was a fortress, a hide-out from the horrors the rest of the world. Though now I saw it as a burnt-out husk, it was not hard to see what a fragile image that had been.

"We could rebuild, couldn't we?" Simply phrasing that as a question seemed to be an answer in and of itself. She kept silent, maybe still trying to figure out if I was crazy or serious. Maybe a bit of both, to be honest, but I was a pragmatist, too. In some respects, anyway -- I guess being without people for so long has made me naive about them.  I knew there was no way I could stay and remake things as they had once been. I would need lumber, piping, concrete, tools I didn't have. The checklist in my head just grew longer and longer and the thought of a fixed-up home just got further and further away.

"Where would we go?"

She visibly relaxed, apparently relieved that I could still see reason. "City 31."

The city the news report had mentioned. A supposed haven for aliens and hybrids freed from Elder control. "Come on, are you serious? We hear about it just once on the news and suddenly you want to trek god-knows-where to find it? Besides, the reporter said they shut the city down to keep out the undesirables. There's no guarantee they'd let us in even if we did find it. I mean, where would we even start? Is it north, south, west -- is it even on this continent?"

"Had map," she said with a worsening frown as she looked into the rubble. "Inside armor. Far north. This continent."

"So that's all we've got? What does that mean? Iowa? New York? Canada?"

She slapped the dust and ash from her Metallica shirt, using the tip of her tail to reach where her arms couldn't on her back. "Unsure. Someone. May know."

"Who?"

"North. In forest."

"What, where those guys said they got ambushed?"

"Yes. Not ADVENT." That set off some quiet alarms that I didn't know what to make of. So resistance members were ambushed, but Vee sounded certain it wasn't ADVENT. What would that mean? Were the resistance cells splintering? Had humanity conquered its oppressors just to begin another war against itself? Or had Eric, Donovan, and Gerard been confused? I had seen ADVENT soldiers on television; the gleaming black armor with red highlights would be hard to mistake for something else.

"You're not making sense, Vee. Those men said they were ambushed by ADVENT. How could anyone confuse them with anyone else?"

She shook her head, pointing at her right side. "One in jacket. Had small wounds. Bullets," she said, pausing to catch her breath. She would have to break that habit of breathing her words instead of speaking sooner or later. "Not ADVENT issue. ADVENT rounds. Bigger exits."

I remembered when I had first seen Eric, a single hole in the shoulder of his jacket. When he had come back sporting a few more, it was impossible not to notice; dark red had stained his jeans and one of his arms had been so useless that he had to one-hand his gun and hold the flashlight in his armpit. Could she really tell what type of weaponry had caused his injuries? I supposed this was where her background as a tracker and hunter came into play. I had no leg to stand on -- it was clear she knew far more than me with regards to these sorts of things, but I couldn't shake the feeling we'd be walking into the same trap as Eric and his men. Then again, we had no food and very little water, and the nearest town was four of five days away. Not that we could go there anyway; even if I left Vee on the outskirts, I felt like I'd face too many questions about the fate of the hunting party. If what Vee was saying turned out to be true, then maybe we could score some supplies as well as directions. It was a big risk no matter how I looked at it. Either we go a different way and maybe die of starvation and dehydration, or we go north and get ourselves shot.

I guess getting shot was quicker, if worst came to worst.

"Okay. Let's do it your way." Perhaps in anticipation of my answer, she had already jammed everything into my granddad's old hiking pack. Or maybe she was getting ready to completely ignore my answer. Either way worked. She laid out a blanket and messily threw some clothes into the middle, then folded the blanket's corners in to tie it all together in a makeshift sort of parcel. She handed it to me, shouldered the backpack herself, and began to leave. I heard the shuffling sound of her slithering away slowly come to a halt when she realized I wasn't following her.

"Just give me a second. Been here more than half of my life." I had expected her to give me a moment to myself, but instead she doubled-back and coiled herself up beside me, folding her hands together.

"We always came here for our family retreats. Granddad and grandma had built the place with their own hands, pouring sweat, blood, and tears into it -- not to mention what I always imagined was a hefty chunk of change for the fifties. Dad had spent most of his childhood here, and even after marrying mom he said the two of them would always come back every summer. He liked to joke that my brother and I were probably conceived here. Grandparents eventually had to move into a one-story ranch in another state due to their age, but all of us made it back here every summer. Games and barbeques almost every day -- fresh beef sizzling on the grill. It's so weird that with all the ash in the air, just the memory of dad's cooking overpowers it so easily. I swear, right now I can smell the burgers and steaks he would make. I remember breaking my arm falling down the stairs when I was nine. My brother got bowled over by a cow calf a month later and hit his head. He was laughing the whole drive to the ER even with blood pouring down his face -- mom had thought he had gotten a concussion or something. The laughing stopped when the doctor came in with the sutures."

My mind was flooded by all these little memories that I never would have thought would come up again. I just kept talking and talking, whether or not Vee was really listening. I wasn't thinking about the kitchen, or my bed, or the chickens; I suddenly realized I wasn't crushed because of what I had lost. Instead it was more about what the house had given me. A blessed childhood, heaps of memories that I had fought so hard to keep tucked away in the recesses of my mind. Only now those memories were the only things left, and after twenty god forsaken years of keeping them locked away, I absolutely relished in them and whatever tears they brought.

"Good home," Vee quietly said, as if it had been a faithful companion.

"Yes it was. Good home." I wiped my eyes before taking a look at Vee, who was already looking at me. I offered her a weak smile, something to show I was mostly okay. She stared a little too hard, and I felt almost as if she was trying to find something inside me. Maybe she may have found it if I had let her, but I rocked forward and onto my feet, clapping the dirt of my hands as I stood fully. "We should get going, I guess. It'll probably take at least a day to get to wherever this supposed ambush happened, judging by how long it took Eric to find my place again after leaving the first time. Where is he, by the way? I mean -- the bodies."

She rose to her full height, but kept looking at the ground, clearly avoiding any sort of eye contact. "Front," she said as I passed by her. I heard her following me at a respectable distance.

The bodies were exactly where she had said. I had woken up with the two of them not too far behind me. I swallowed and held my breath. They weren't the first bodies I had ever seen. Fear roiled to the surface of my mind upon closer inspection; they certainly were the gnarliest, though. Eric had a ragged, fist-sized hole in his neck and collar bone, full of splintered bone and a mess of torn flesh. He had clearly been shot at very close range. His torso was speckled with blood, like somebody had flicked a paintbrush at him, and I saw his weapon clutched tightly in his grasp; a great hole had been ripped clear through the receiver. I guess Vee got two shots off on him, and his weapon blocked some of the pellets.

Gerard, though -- I couldn't stand to look at him for more than a few moments. His must have been the strangled cry I had heard. His chest was oddly misshapen and one of his arms was bent in horrifying ways, while his rifle lay beside him nearly folded in half. I didn't even bother to look further up. I knew Vee had squeezed the life out of him, and I didn't have the stomach to see if he still had eyes in his head.

"Do me a favor," I said, my voice cracking. "See if this guy has anything we can use on him. I'll check Eric."

We passed one another as I doubled back to check the first body; neither of us could look at each other. Eric's pockets and pouches had a plethora of things inside. I found two knives on his belt, one about eight inches tucked into a sheath and a smaller, four inch fold-out blade that simply clipped onto a belt. I also found four shells I could use for my gun, a few batteries we could use out of many more we couldn't, and a canteen of water already half-empty. His backpack was in okay shape, so I took that as well, and shoved in the blanket-parcel Vee had made. Already inside were two pairs of socks, a lighter, a pack of cigarettes with just two left, and something that looked and smelled like jerky in an interior pocket, stuffed within a plastic baggie.

Vee finished searching Gerard and fell back in behind me. She seemed like she was waiting, or perhaps expecting something from me. She still avoided direct eye contact but would steal sidelong glances when she thought I wasn't paying attention. She looked away again, down at the dirt, and I looked up. Birds had begun to circle. Despite everything, despite their mistake and their rush to judgement, I couldn't just leave the bodies for the animals. Unfortunately all the tools I had, shovels included, were in the basement. Or what was left of it.

"How many blankets have you got in that pack, Vee?"

"Four."

"Take out two. Wrap him up and I'll get this one."

"Waste," she nearly whispered, though she had already begun rummaging through her pack for what I asked.

"It's the right thing to do."

I laid out a blanket beside Eric's body and rolled him onto it, then continued rolling it around him until he was wrapped twice over. Vee seemed a little more haphazard with her movements. Or maybe the odd angles off Gerard's broken body were making it difficult for her. Either way, she did not seem to have the same reverence I did. I wasn't sure if she had a grudge against them, or if this was just her way of protesting my waste of resources, but I wasn't about to start an argument. Neither was she, apparently, judging by her persistent silence despite her slightly-angrier face.

She had him wrapped like a mummy shortly after I was done. The two bodies just laid there, side by side, and I found myself staring. I was instantly reminded of the day Adam and I had buried our parents. Seeing it again so vividly threatened to bring tears to my eyes, so I pushed that memory deep down. I was already making a conscious effort not to visit their graves before leaving; if I did, I felt I might never be able to leave.

Vee came back with some twigs and a few pieces of unburned wood from around the house. Small shards of the porch left untouched by fire should serve as enough kindling. Maybe. She scattered it over the corpses and after a minute or two, it all took a flame from Eric's lighter. My stomach twisted itself into knots. I didn't know either of them beyond our two conversations, and to be honest it may have been the beginnings of a grudge, but the scene was disturbing. Something about it just felt frighteningly relevant -- prescient, almost. Nobody was here to cry over them. Nobody was here to say they were in a better place or that their loved ones would see them again sooner or later. Just all encompassing silence. It hit me that this was how I would have died if I had stayed in this house. Nobody around to see me off, nobody to grieve for me. One morning I would have just not woken up and rotted in bed for the rest of time, the world totally indifferent to my absence. I had never given it much thought, but seeing it now so plainly chilled me to the bone.

I just kept watching as the fire grew disappointingly. It sure as hell wasn't a proper cremation, but it should have been good enough to keep the animals from picking at what was left.

"Liam." Hearing my name from someone else's mouth for the first time in damn near a decade snapped me out of my contemplative trance so quickly it nearly gave me whiplash. "Come."

And that was it. I didn't even look back. I knew beyond a shadow of doubt that took some strength on my part. I wasn't entirely weak, after all.

-Chapter 7-

The warm morning inexorably transitioned into a hot afternoon, the sun mercilessly beating down with not a single cloud to block its light. Being out in the fields was terrible in the noon heat. It wasn't exactly scorching, but I would burn just the same with enough time. I took a spare shirt from Eric's -- from my backpack and draped it over my head, such that the body of it covered the back of my neck. Vee game me a funny sort of look when she saw, but I guess it was warranted; I don't think I've ever heard of a snake getting sunburned, so maybe she didn't have much of a clue what I was doing.

It was odd to be so far from the house. I knew there was no civilization for miles around but the excitement and anxiety of seeing how things were began to eat at me in equal parts. Every step I took, I expected some aspect of this horrifying new world waiting to swallow me up and spit me back out. Were there roving militia bands slaughtering every non-human they could find? Did packs of aliens, now leaderless, scour the land for anything they could use to survive? Any time the thoughts got to be too much, I reminded myself that Vee wasn't too worried about the world around her. Either she knew the dangers well or knew there weren't as many dangers as I kept imagining. I suppose carrying my shotgun also instilled some confidence in her. It was probably for the best, anyway; circumstances had shown I wasn't prepared to actually use the damn thing.

We walked in relative silence, her leading the way by a few paces. It was very strange to see her move. In and around the house I never paid it much mind, nor could I since the distance traveled was never very far, but outside on a long trek it was impossible to ignore. Everything about her was liquid-smooth. Whereas a normal Earth snake would slide its body along the ground in a continuous squiggly pattern for forward motion, Vee's upright posture created some obvious differences. She was always hunched slightly forward which created a constant s-curve in her body. Her tail would move like I expected it to, constantly swiping back and forth. When she was moving slowly, like at a walking pace, her upper body lagged just a half-step behind her lower as her tail seemed to pull her into place. At a faster clip her upper body leaned forward, and it was as if her tail was trying to keep up with her. No matter how fast or slow she moved, her hips -- or where it looked like she had hips -- swayed hypnotically back and forth.

Though beyond that mild curiosity, it was difficult to look at her. Every time I did, my mind instantly leapt to images of Gerard's body. The twisted arms, his ribs broken so badly it looked like his chest barely had a shape anymore -- even the gun, bent like a paperclip against his body as Vee probably squeezed him with every once of strength she had. Sometimes I'd feel something bubble up from the pit of my stomach and I would be forced to loudly swallow it back down, loud enough that Vee would hear it and check on me from the corner of her eyes.

I think she knew what I was hung up on; not that it was very hard for her to see, with how I would avert my eyes every time she looked back. She kept her distance, unsure yet of my new opinion of her.

I knew I was being unfair, that I was being childish. I was six years old the first time I saw granddad slaughter a chicken. He grabbed old Gerta from the hen house, placed her down on the ground with a broomstick held firmly behind her neck, and yanked her body upwards -- all before I could even think about looking away. A tiny little pop was all I heard and then her lifeless body just fell to the ground like a rock. I was upset for weeks afterwards and pretty wary around granddad. He tried to help me understand, but it took a while for a suburbanite boy my age to get over it. Eventually I saw it for what it was; just a man doing what he could to survive on his own. For sustenance, for survival -- some things were necessary.

That was only reinforced when my dad took up killing to protect us in a post-invasion world. And after him, my brother took a few lives to protect us both. I knew the stakes, but I guess I never comprehended the violence of action that would be necessary. Gunshots were always so clean. All I heard was a sharp pop or two and then it was over. No screaming or strangled cries. And the first time I had ever seen someone killed with my own eyes was when my brother killed a wandering man in front of the house, clearly holding a gun behind his back. He was shouting angrily at the house, and as I peeked out the living room there was a loud boom from the second floor, and then he just dropped. That was all there was to it.

Then there was Vee and the number she did on Gerard. The rib cage, misshapen like a sack of potatoes. The bones in his arms most likely splintered nearly into dust. And even though I couldn't bear to look at his face, I imagined it vividly; bloodshot eyes popped out of their sockets, teeth cracked as he tried to grit the pain away, blood dripping from his ears, nose, and eyes.

I knew Vee was not a monster, but I could not deny what she did was monstrous. Like when the family dog gets a hold of a baby rabbit, and before anybody can tell him to drop it he just picks it up in his jaws and crunches down on it. It's tough not to see him in a different light. He's no monster, but it's hard not to be disgusted by him in that moment.

I guess it all boiled down to my naivety. It's been a real ugly world for the past couple of decades, but I've only known it through a television screen or by someone else's handiwork. I had the sinking feeling sooner or later, something would happen that would make my hands dirty. Vee wouldn't be there to take the gun from my hands, and it would be either me or whoever was on the other end of the barrel.

The sun had just passed the apex of its arc, and Vee and I were lucky to enter the woods at what was sure to be the hottest part of the day. The forest canopy blocked a substantial portion of the sunlight and immediately I could feel the air temperature drop beneath the trees. My bare feet were already aching and of everything I had lost in the last twenty-four hours, I really wished I still had my boots. That Vee needed no sleeve or padding or some other thing between her tail and the ground was momentarily interesting, but then again her scales probably acted as some sort of armor. Whereas she could probably barely feel the pine cones and needles and twigs that crunched beneath her, I was gingerly stepping over this and that while trying my best not to fall behind or slow her down. Whoever it was Vee thought we were going to run into, I sure hoped they had a spare pair of shoes I could trade for. That was if they didn't kill us first.

"Stop," Vee said. I froze mid-stride, carefully putting my foot down avoid making any sound. She sank low to the ground, using her hands to support herself, and flicked her tongue several times over a particular spot. "Blood."

It didn't look like any sort of fight had happened here. None of the tree trunks were splintered. There were no craters or dark patches of freshly-kicked up dirt. The forest as a whole seemed generally undisturbed. She was the tracker, however. If she says something happened here, it must've have happened. "Is this where they were ambushed?"

She scanned her surroundings, zeroing in on a particularly unremarkable path through the trees directly ahead of us. "No attack. Yet."

There would only be blood if they had come back this way. "Then you're saying we're on the right track?"

"Yes."

Where before our silence was borne more from giving the other space, now it seemed much heavier. Vee appeared to be a different sort of person now. She was far more alert, her head swiveling about and her eyes focusing like lasers on the slightest disturbances, her tongue darting out to taste the air every dozen paces. After a little while I began to clue in on the things that grabbed her attention: a line of broken branches, a patch of flattened clovers, a line cut into the forest detritus like somebody had been dragging something. A shiver slipped down my spine when I realized this is what Vee had done during the war. She would find trails left by humans like me, find them, and kill them.

She followed the little clues left in the earth like breadcrumbs for hours, pausing every so often to reacquire her line of travel with an eerily predatory, robotic whip of her head. She'd stop, swing left or right, then stop precisely when she meant to and refocus. There was no wasted motion when she was like this. Every movement was measured and conserved, carefully considered before actually executed. I began to wonder if this was a leftover of her mental control by the Elders. She searched not like she wanted to find something, but more as if she needed to. As a soldier, was she rewarded for a job well done? Did she get some sort of buzz or mental high when picking up clues that would lead her to a kill? Just how far into the minds of its soldiers did the Elders reach?

Only when she began to lose the last bits of sunset light could I see her frustration began to set in. Her careful nature eroded bit by bit. Her tongue flew more wildly, she was never focused on more than one spot for a few seconds, and the rigid economy of motion she had previously stuck to went out the window as she scrambled around trying to reacquire the trail. Darkness fully fell as the sun slipped behind the horizon, dusk's hazy orange light vanishing from the forest canopy with startling quickness. Fireflies spotted the forest like stars while the chittering and screaming sounds of the night I had previously heard from the comfort of my house were now a little too close for comfort. I was careful once again of the noise I made with my footfalls, afraid something deeper in the forest might take notice.

Vee was unconcerned with nightfall or with the possibility something -- or someone -- else was in the forest and huffed loudly, disappointed by the loss of the trail when by all accounts the clues should have gotten more obvious. If we were going in the right direction we should have found more blood, more casings, more tracks the closer we got to the ambush site, but it all evaporated the further on we went.

"Sleep," Vee said. She unhooked the sleeping bag from the top of the hiking pack and tossed it to me, then took out the remaining two blankets we had.

"I've got a lighter, you know. We could have a fire."

She curled as much of herself as she could beneath her blankets. A good portion of her tail still poked out from the side, which made me feel bad for her. "No fire. Risky."

"Do you want the sleeping bag? I can fit under those blankets."

We locked eyes for the first time since this morning, a moment of consideration in her slitted pupils, before she said, "Too big." She curled up again, ducking her head out of sight beneath the covers.

It was very hard to sleep. My backpack was about as good as a rock for a pillow, and between the constant chattering of whatever insects and creatures surrounded us and the inescapable truth that someone out here had attacked Eric and his men, any amount of shuteye seemed itself like a dream. Without a clock or the newscasts from the television the only way to tell time was by the passage of the half-moon overhead. Its glow just barely diffused through the treetops, spreading out to weakly light the forest floor. I just laid there for what I guessed was an hour, watching the hazy white move from one end of the canopy to the other. Before long I grew bored and turned on my side to see if sleep would come easier then.

The end of Vee's tail, the bit of her she could not fit beneath the blankets, seemed to glisten in the moonlight. Her diamond-shaped scales gave the impression of a bunch of pebbles still wet from a light rain. Between the arches of the blanket's edges I could only see an impenetrable pitch black, and from within there I wondered if Vee was looking back at me. I stared a little while longer, trying to convince myself that I wasn't just trying to keep an eye on her because now she scared me. And no matter how hard I tried, no matter how hard I truly, actually believed that she posed no threat to me, I couldn't help but imagine her squeezing me like a tube of toothpaste, snapping bones and crushing organs. Time and again I'd told myself she could kill me whenever she wanted, that she had no actual reason to keep me alive, so why my mind kept replaying these imaginary events -- I had no idea.

I heard Vee's raspy voice in my mind -- being alone sucks. Repeating that in my head put me more at ease. She wanted company just as badly as I did.

I guess like humans, even aliens suffer from isolation. She claimed to have had a map to City 31 in her armor, but she had been content to stop at my house and apparently settle down. Her days would have consisted of nothing but watching television, helping around the house, and eating the occasional chicken. That had been good enough to make her stall, if not entirely skip going to City 31. Whatever she would have found in that city -- safety, community, a job for all I knew -- she was happy instead having found me.

Despite the obvious physical differences, maybe she and I were more alike than either of us knew. It was honestly a comforting thought, and I felt myself slowly letting go, drifting to sleep.

Until a bright light nearly blinded me through my eyelids and cold metal pressed into my forehead.

"Get up," said a stern, startlingly dissonant voice; it sounded like two people were trying to speak over each other. "Slowly."

Vee was already emerging from her blankets. She had three guns trained on her, each with a flashlight attached near the barrel. I saw her eyes dart for just a moment towards the gun, but she immediately put any such thoughts out of mind and emerged fully to surrender herself. I followed her lead and didn't put up any fuss at all. She was relaxed somehow, which made me wonder if she had known what we were walking into.

"Already smarter than the last group," said one of our captors. Two of them went around and collected our things, roughly stuffing it all into the sleeping bag I had just occupied. He grabbed the gun last, pumped it six times to clear the tube and chamber, gathered the shells, then safed it and slung it over his right shoulder. Each of our mystery captors certainly looked like ADVENT, but there was something undeniably off compared to what I had seen on television. The armor was just a little too ragtag relative to the gleaming black and red of the average trooper; some pieces looked held together by rags or duct tape, and what seemed like tribal or decorative marks adorned various places along their body. There didn't seem to be a standard of dress to them. One of them had an animal fur along his left forearm, while the others had mismatching insignia on their shoulders. The only thing they all shared was a full face helmet that had dimly-lit slits running horizontally across the eyes, and a pair of wicked blades coming off some sort of gauntlet on their left hands.

I was ushered sideways to stand beside Vee where both her arms and mine were bound behind our backs.

"March." A gun barrel was gently pressed between my shoulder blades. "Do not stop until instructed. Do not speak. Do not make sudden movements."

I stole a sidelong glance at Vee, which she met. I couldn't see any scheme being hatched behind those blood-red eyes. In fact, she seemed entirely at ease, as if this was just another step on our journey. This was her world, and I had to remind myself that for the moment, I was just a visitor. As hard as it was to keep my heart out of my throat and to suppress the instinct to flee, I followed her lead.

We trudged off through the woods in near pitch black, only barely sidestepping trees in our path and hoping our captors would not think we were trying anything funny. Besides the blood absolutely roaring through my ears, our footsteps crunching through the leaves and brush were the only sounds in the forest.  The chittering bugs had disappeared. The hooting and shrieking of owls and what I assumed to be foxes had fallen silent. Was everything quiet because of us, or did something else yet stalk us through the forest? All of this did nothing for the fear rapidly rising inside of me, seemingly displacing the air in my lungs and making it harder to breathe. I wondered if another panic attack was coming on -- or anxiety attack, or whatever that nonsense had been a couple days ago. I kept my focus by just staring at my feet -- right, left, right -- only looking up every so often to make sure I didn't run face first into a tree. I would also continue to watch Vee to remind myself that despite all of this, she appeared totally calm. If she was, I could be, too.

"Stop."

We must have gone about half a mile before arriving at some sort of camp sparsely lit by weak lighting, with what barely looked like the glow of a fire trapped within a cylinder to hide it from distant observers. I could only just make out a pair of tents and what looked like a truck, it's door half open but I couldn't see what -- if anything -- was inside. Vee looked a little disappointed. I wasn't sure why.

"Take the viper to the left. The human goes to the right."

I watched them for a moment as Vee was led to the other tent, but another prod in my back pushed me in the right direction. I walked past the fire barrel -- it was mostly embers at this point -- and to the tent, pushing aside the entrance flaps. Inside were four chairs, and a table with yet another person on the other side of it, though obscured by shadows. I heard my escort step back a few paces and turned to see him posted up by the tent's opening, like he was standing guard.

"Sit, please." The one at the table sounded just like the others -- that odd, two-voiced sort of speech that I swore I could almost feel vibrating in my bones. I timidly did as asked, using my foot to scoot one of the chairs out. Something on the table like a desk lamp was switched on; it wasn't too bright, but pointed directly at my face, it was hard to see much of anything else.

We sat in silence for much too long, and the tension began to twist my thoughts. And without Vee and her calm demeanor beside me, it was becoming too much to bear. Was this an interrogation? We hadn't done anything wrong. Was my captor waiting for me to offer something? Make the first move? Was this a test? Was I being allowed to stew in my own mind and crack like an egg?

"We were just passing through," I barely managed to stammer.

"Name?"

"Liam."

"Occupation?"

"I was a farmer but, ah -- well, the property's gone now." That got a rise out of my interrogator. He cocked his head for a moment then went on with his questions.

"Are you related to the previous three human men that wandered by approximately forty-eight hours ago?"

"No. Wait, so you guys did ambush them?"

"The two survivors reported back to you?"

"No! They burnt my goddamn house down! Look, they -- like, a week ago or something these three guys find my house -- I mean, before that Vee did, but the guys , they were looking for her--"

"Vee?"

"Yes, that's her name. The viper I'm with. She came by, tried to steal some food. I couldn't kill her, so I just gave her some stuff and sent her one way, but then these guys -- Eric, Gerard, and Donovan -- they came by a day later looking for her and said they wanted to skin her, take her fangs or her head or some other vile garbage, I don't care to recall. I sent told them she went north into the woods, so they went after her. Then they come back while we were having dinner--"

"We?"

"Yes! Vee and I! Are you listening? They come back --or, Eric and Gerard do, anyway -- and scream that I sent them into an ADVENT ambush! The burn down my goddamn house and tried to shoot me despite what I was telling them, and I'd be dead if it weren't for Vee. So we've got no home, no food, everything we could salvage from my place is literally in that sleeping bag your guys took from us, and we'd really like it back so we can be on our way to City 31."

I finished with a long, deep breath. Everything had sounded much more organized in my head, but I just couldn't keep it together. I was surrounded by aliens after twenty years of avoiding them and the only one that I would call a friend was being questioned, interrogated, beaten, tortured -- I didn't know what. I was tired, hungry, thirsty, and angry didn't even begin to describe the pent-up energy swelling inside me.

"Calm down, Liam. You and this 'Vee' will not be harmed. Start again from the beginning, and take your time."

And with another deep, exasperated breath, I began again from the morning of the day I had met Vee. From her bewildered nature and vaguely grateful attitude, to the digusting things the three men had told me and shown me. I spilled it all -- Vee's return, her stay, her acommodations and her minor field surgery. Every little detail that had led Vee and I up to this moment I all but spelled out for him. When I finished, he leaned back into his chair, hiding a bit more of himself in darkness. Again he was content to let me stew in silence.

"Bring in the viper," he said. The entrance split down the middle and Vee was ushered in by three escorts, her hands still bound as well. She pushed the chair next to me away so she could coil up beside me. "What did she say?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Shit," I hissed. Vee's look snapped to me. "Was I not supposed to talk? I talked. Is that okay?"

"Hurt?" she said, ignoring my question.

"No. You?"

"No."

The lamp focused on my face switched off, and a taller, stronger lamp in the far back of the tent flickered to life. In the dim yellow glow that now doused the interior, I could finally see the face of the man that was asking questions.

He had a pretty standard human shape, though he looked a little better built than your average man. It might have been the stark white armor which made him look bulkier; it was better kept than the armor his comrades wore, and on the shoulder there was what almost looked like some odd alteration of the ADVENT insignia. The pouches across his chest hung heavily, filled with magazines. A trio of impacts scarred the left breast, the paint there chipped and the material underneath slightly glossier than its surroundings, presumably by the heat of the impact. His neck was covered by what I guessed was an extension of the body suit he wore beneath his armor, and it reached up to cup his chin and cover the bottom half of his cheeks, though his mouth remained uncovered.

I was not prepared for the face. His eyes were large and deeply disturbing to look at with that threatening, ethereal shine they had, like a cat's eyes in the dark. His nose was reduced to barely anything, and I might not have noticed it were it not for the pair of slitted nostrils sitting in the approximately appropriate spot. His mouth appeared normal, though he had some sort of surgical implant on the left side that seemed to travel up his face, only intermittently diving beneath the skin before showing its metallic surface again further up. He had wrinkles that looked unreal, like laugh lines but multiplied to an absurd degree, and his forehead and bald scalp were also crisscrossed by odd furrows that I had never seen even on my grandparents, as old as they had been. His ears were slightly reduced and much closer to the sides of his head, almost like they were pinned back.

His focus shifted to Vee. "Do you speak English? Hablas Español? Sprechen sie Deutsch? Balas ADVENT?" he said.

"English," Vee replied.

"Good. I'd rather not speak in the false tongue of our former masters. Now, Liam, the men who engaged us were not ambushed. They crossed our perimeter and we interdicted them more gently than we did you. They chose not to come quietly despite our assurances, and opened fire on us," he said, tapping the three craters on his breastplate. "As you know, one was killed in the firefight, and we allowed the other two to retreat. We know the closest town is approximately a week away on foot; even if they had returned with greater numbers for a counterattack, we will have been long gone by then."

"Oh," I said, sort of wishing they had killed all three, but I squashed those thoughts the moment they sprung up.

"I must say, I have not yet heard of a human befriending a viper. Speak honestly and do not shield her; if she holds some sway over you, let it be known now and you will be protected. Despite all that you have said, are you her captive?"

"Her chef, actually," I sneered, angry that he had seemingly ignored all I had told him. That remark managed to pull a short, stuttering hiss from past Vee's lips. He looked at her with nothing short of amazement.

"Nor have I ever heard a viper laugh. Today is certainly a day of firsts. Unbind them, please," he said. I heard a knife slip out from its sheath and the next moment, Vee's and my hands were free. "You may call me Argo -- Commander of the Seventeeth Skirmisher cell, East Coast Division. My subordinates behind you are Edix, Jova, Sally, and Five."

The first two sounded alien or made-up enough, but the last two caught me off guard. "Sally and Five?"

"Saved a human child from a Chryssalid," said one of the soldiers, whose oddly flanged voice had a distinctly female quality. "She possessed a doll of an animal called a bear, which she called Sally. She transferred the name to me before we placed her in a refugee center."

"And Five," Argo interrupted, "has yet to choose a name for herself. Now, if you please--"

"Hold on, I answered your questions," I said, feeling more than a little burst of courage for interrupting someone so intimidating. "I've got some of my own. What are Skirmishers? I've never heard of your group. Are you resistance? Did humans press you into service or are you being blackmailed or what?"

Argo smiled, the sort of patient, glowing smile a father would give his son for asking why the sky is blue. "You would not have heard of us. We're not exactly widespread, and before the war we were ADVENT's dirtiest secret, even dirtier the black-sites that XCOM broadcast worldwide two months ago. We are living, breathing proof that Elder control is not absolute, nor is their technology infallible. Each of us was ADVENT at some point but somehow, the chip in our minds that fed their instructions to us through the psionic network malfunctioned. Freed from their control, we sought to liberate others and bring down their rule."

This all seemed like an absolute load. So a hyper-advanced alien race enslaves others with an implanted chip, but doesn't program it with a fail-safe or something which prevents the slave from turning? Even in human engineering, if a circuit is interrupted or something, the entire machine can be made to shut down. And their technology, which has never before been shown to have fault, just starts turning up bugs and errors like any other bit of software? What, did it run on Windows?

"I can see you still have a great many questions, Liam. My soldiers and I will be here for a day longer. I invite you and Vee to rest in our camp; the wilds are more dangerous these days as beasts kept in check by the Elders now run amok. We will discuss your journey in the morning and put to rest any lingering doubts or persistent questions. Should you both choose to stay, you will sleep in the truck with the door closed and locked from the outside -- for yours and our protection. Whoever is on watch will listen should you have need of anything during the night."

I deferred to Vee with an unsteady gaze. This was her world after all, full of things and people I knew nothing about. Skirmishers? Chryssalids? Mind-chips? She quickly agreed.

"Very well. Jova will have the first watch. Follow him and try to get some rest; do not burden yourself now with trying to form questions for tomorrow."

He motioned to the opening, permitting us our exit, where our guard Jova waiting for us to fall in behind him. Outside, the other three Skirmishers made for the second tent while we were instructed to enter the back of the truck. The stark black interior was more than just a little cramped. Either side had a brushed metal bench seemingly molded up from the floor, wide enough only to sit on. Spare pieces of armor lined the walls, and a few boxes of what looked like shell casings sat against the driver's cabin door, itself a solid piece of metal with just a barred window allowing one to see inside. A single red light was attached to each of the far corners, giving the inside an inoffensive glow.

"Here are your blankets and sleeping bag," said Jova, tossing our things in behind us. "Your other belongings will be returned to you upon your departure. Should you require anything, knock on the door and the fire watch will assist you." He took our silence as permission to exuse himself and shut the door. What sounded like a series of internal locks clicked into place, and Vee and I were left on our own.

She wasted no time in getting back to sleep. Before I had even turned around she had already set up her blankets and was doing her best to squeeze as much of herself as possible beneath them in such close quarters. She ended up with her head facing the driver's cabin, so I laid my sleeping bag out to face in the opposite direction. It was certainly uncomfortable, and I found myself wishing that I had my backpack, even though it made for a terrible pillow. I curled up into a fetal position to bring more of my body into the sleeping bag, so that my head was resting on the softer material instead of the harshly cold metal floor.

It wasn't bad, but I after laying there for twenty minutes I found it impossible to sleep. Nevermind the fact the primal parts of my brain were telling me not to sleep beside a giant snake, but what Commander Argo had said, that he had never heard of a human befriending a viper -- why was that? Sure, vipers were intimidating, and even having been around Vee so much, that feeling's not really gone away, but the fact was she had acted just like the refugees on television. She was hungry, on the run, looking for shelter. Was Argo trying to say that any other human would have just blown her away? Was it just in our nature to look at a viper and immediately think 'monster'? And what about from their perspective? We must look pretty monstrous to them; no tail, brutishly thick arms, a big nose, hair, weirdly flat teeth, just to name a few things.

"You awake, Vee?"

I heard her body shifting as soon as I had spoken, and looked up to see her head poking up from the blanket pile she had made for herself. She craned her neck towards me. I guessed by now perhaps that was viper body language for 'I'm listening'.

"I wanted to say that -- the way things went down back at the house was bad. I know that. I know now it was going to be bad no matter what, and the end result would have been ugly no matter how it had happened. I mean -- I know you know that I -- look, we've barely said a word to each other since this morning, let alone looked at one another. I feel we both know why, so I just wanted to say it plainly: I don't think you're a monster. I don't think you're evil. I don't want you to feel bad about defending yourself or saving me. Every second I'm breathing after that night is thanks to you. I said it before, but you know, just for good measure -- thank you."

She sighed and glanced down, aimlessly scanning the floor in that way people often do when lost inside of their own thoughts.

"Welcome." She dove again beneath the covers and said, "Long trip. Tomorrow."

"Sounds like it. Good night, Vee."

"Good night. Liam."

-Chapter 8-

Despite the odd, arguably harrowing circumstances, there had been no dreams or nightmares in my head. None that I could remember, anyway. Maybe I just didn't have enough in my head about the world as it was now, so I had no reference to draw on. It would be like asking someone to fill in the missing variables in an equation when they hadn't even heard of math. They just wouldn't comprehend what was being asked. Likewise, I just did not have a clue what I should or shouldn't be afraid of, and so my mind just kept coming up blank. I couldn't say it bothered me; it made for a deep sleep, after all.

What did bother me was that somehow -- through the clouds, through the thick forest canopy, through the windshield and finally through the little tiny window in the door that separated the driver's cabin from the rear compartment  -- a perfect little beam of sunlight managed to find my eyes and rouse me awake.

Vee seemed to have stretched out a bit in her sleep, and the tip of her tail extended out from the blankets and rested near my hand. I hesitated but couldn't figure out why. I had already put my hands on her while treating her wounds, and she's pulled me by my collar, wrapped up my legs so I didn't run back into my burning home, and lifted me by the arms. There shouldn't be a reason for me to hesitate, should there? Was I being too familiar?

I reached out and gently jostled her tail. Without gloves on, she certainly felt like an Earth snake -- cool and glossy, but with a firmness beneath that indicated how much damn muscle she must have had in her entire body. "Vee," I said, watching as she began to stir, "it's morning."

While I wiped the sleep from my eyes and tried to swallow the dryness in my mouth, she was instantly alert from the moment she emerged from beneath her blankets. It was like I was still trying to rev my motor while she was already in fourth gear. She adjusted her shirt, smoothing out a wrinkle or two, and slid past me to knock on the door. She didn't even seem to have noticed I had touched her. It was exciting, in a 'giant step for mankind' sort of way. How many humans could say they've touched an alien and not been ripped apart? The last year has been nothing but conflict, resistance and ADVENT at each other's throats where the only things they were touching each other with was bullets and bombs. And here I was just shaking Vee awake like we were at a damn slumber party and I was the first one up.

We waited for a moment longer before one of the troopers opened the door. The watch must have changed during the night because this one's armor was slightly different from Jova's, who had locked us in last night. This new trooper had bright blue line slashing down the right side of the breastplate, jumping out against the stark white armor. I wasn't sure yet which one this was, so I played dumb just a little to try and get a name.

"Jova?"

"Five," said the trooper -- the one that hadn't chosen a name for herself yet. "The others are hunting for breakfast and will return shortly. Until then, you are free to wander but do not expect any privacy. Should either of you need to relieve yourselves, you will be escorted to the field latrine. It bears repeating you will not be given privacy."

"Uh, thanks. I'll hold it." I moved aside to let Vee out of the truck. She hit the ground and spun, twisting her back in a lot of different ways that made me start to feel older than I already was. She turned to Five, who was watching her far more keenly than she was me.

"Water?"

"Bucket by the fire barrel. Freshly boiled an hour ago."

The three of us sat in complete silence. I was listening to the sounds around us -- the birds mostly, who were going about their own morning routines. Though it was impossible not to notice that Five had not looked at me since she had let us out of the truck. I guess the viper was ten times the threat an unarmed human would ever be. It was something that Vee absolutely noticed as she took small sips from the water bucket, watching Five from the corner of her eye. I started to feel a little more tension than I felt was appropriate, given the fact that these skirmishers clearly meant us no harm. Maybe Vee didn't like being eyed with suspicion?

"Why the name 'Five'?" Vee looked away once Five turned her attention to me.

"I was the fifth member of this cell, recently liberated from my garrison. I am unable to decide on a name."

"Is that important to you?"

"It shouldn't be, but it feels as such. Troopers were never given names within the ranks of ADVENT; only officers were, given how often they would liaise with civilian offices. Choosing a name is fully realizing one's freedom from the false gods -- the Elders, as humans came to know them." She turned again and nodded her head at Vee, who was now warming herself by the fire. I wondered if she was exothermic like Earth's reptiles. "How did she choose her name? We have not met many vipers, and even fewer were approachable."

"I asked if she had one. She only showed me a barcode, so I offered up Vee. She seemed to attach pretty quick to it, even though I had a whole book of alternatives she could have chosen from."

"A former soldier of ADVENT -- not even a biped -- shows up at your door and the first thing you do is offer her food, shelter, and clothing," Five said, grunting at her own apparent disbelief. "You are a peculiar human."

"Is it that odd?" I asked, knowing full well what her answer would be. Keeping her attention on me seemed to keep Vee relaxed, so I would keep talking as long as I could."

"The war has been over for just two months. Even still, pockets of ADVENT forces still fight. Humans do not have much empathy these days for non-humans -- when have they ever had reason to? Even those of us sympathetic to their cause receive dirty looks and scandalous whispers as we pass by. Most of us choose to keep our helmets on, for many recoil in shock when seeing our faces; until XCOM's broadcast, many thought we were simply human volunteers.

"For you act as you did towards a viper is even more surprising. Humans have no room at all in their hearts for things that crawl or slither. It's ingrained, some sort of evolutionary response. Even if a human is not afraid of a snake, he knows full well to avoid one. So you are quite peculiar; either very brave or very weak to allow her to control you."

I supposed I was right then, about what Argo had said last night. Any other human would have shot Vee on sight. That explained his insistence on thinking of me as her captive, and his surprise when I confirmed she was in fact, a friend. To be honest, it sounded like most vipers were shoot-on-sight for a lot of the world. Skirmishers certainly seem to avoid them when able. Maybe Vee's surprise the night she and I had met was two-fold; not only had I helped an alien, but perhaps she couldn't understand why I had helped her specifically.

"But," she added, relaxing her grip on her rifle a little, "I cannot say you don't spark a glimmer of hope within me. Jova said you did not recoil upon seeing the Commander's face. You do not attempt to avoid contact, nor treat us or even this Vee as less than yourself. Even having spoken to you for only ten minutes, it would be nice if more humans were like you."

I didn't have the heart to tell her that I was practically frozen in fear when I saw Argo's face, nor could I immediately discount her appraisal of me as weak. I couldn't even bring myself to defend my own life. Vee had done it for me.  I was very weak in some respects, but I wouldn't admit it to anyone else. On the other hand, I was just beginning to find out in which ways I was strong. That was a short list at the moment, however.

It was then a second trooper emerged from the tent Vee had been held in last night, catching everybody's attention; I immediately recognized the armor as Jova's, the one that had taken first watch. He appeared to be struggling to carry a crate of some sort in his arms, his steps mostly shuffling through the dirt as he made his way to the open rear of the truck. It looked as if it took a lot of effort for him to heft it up chest high to get it onto the floor, then he hopped inside to slide it all the way in until it came to a stop against the cabin door. He went back to the tent and emerged with another crate just like it, though by how he moved that one must have been lighter.

"Could I help you at all?" Jova didn't even realize I was speaking to him. He just kept at it, and only when I asked him again on his way back into the tent did he stop.

"What?"

"Can I help you?"

If I could have seen his face I imagined he might have had a deer-in-the-headlights sort of look; he was abnormally still, those glowing slits in his helmet focused intensely on me. After a few moments he looked at Five, who only shrugged in response.

"I suppose so," he said.

I made my way into the tent with Jova. Everything was already neatly packed away into black and grey crates maybe half the size of my old television. Some were open and inside was a mixture of things I had no clue about. One box was filled with things that looked like tablets, neatly standing and compacted like papers in a filing cabinet's drawer. They were black and thinner than any tablet I had ever seen, with red screens sporting a faint honey-comb pattern that seemed to float on top of the display. Another crate was filled hallway with empty shell casings and on top of those were small bags of black and grey powder -- most likely materials used to make their own ammunition. More crates still had papers, computer parts, some odds and ends I did not immediately recognize. It was like emptying out an old office. If I had to guess, Argo and his soldiers had been here for several days at the least. This seemed like to much stuff to unpack and then put away again for a one or two day stay.

The first crate I tried to pick up felt like a ton. The next one was maybe half a ton. Not wanting to embarrass myself, I went around gently shoving different crates to see if they were easy to move or not. Upon finally finding one that I was able to scoot more than a couple inches, I heaved it up with a few deep breaths. My balance shifted and my feet instinctively spread wider to accommodate the extra load. I was leaning back pretty far to support most of the new weight on my chest; I wouldn't be able to carry more than a few like this. I wasn't that much smaller than Jova, and the constant work around the house kept me in shape. Not as much as constant warfare did, I'm sure, but I wondered if the armor these skirmishers wore had something within to enhance their strength.

When I went back for a second, lighter box, Vee followed me in without a word. We shared a momentary look before she set to work. Instead of using her arms, she slid her body around one of the boxes, catching it in the arch of an s-curve, then shuffled it across the floor with her as she slithered. Despite looking a little more complicated, it seemed effortless for her, and also appeared to confirm that her arms weren't exactly that strong even compared to a human's. She scooted it up to the truck, jumped inside, and lifted the crate inside -- all with her tail and lower body. The only thing she used her hands for was pulling her upper body into the truck and bracing them against the seats as she pulled the crate up.

This went on for a little while, the three of us going back and forth from tent to truck while Five stood watch, her rifle held low. Everything seemed all right at first, but something within her changed as we kept working. Where before she had kept her gaze trained thoroughly on Vee, now she could not stop staring my way. Her posture would noticeably shift and her movements became erratic, as though she were desperately trying not to fidget and would over-correct whenever she caught herself doing so. She flexed her hands around the grip of her weapon -- never did her finger go near the trigger but it made me nervous all the same.

"Please stop," she hoarsely whispered, staring at the dirt between her feet. Though normally stern and authoritative, she spoke with a shakiness that made her two-tone voice almost sound like it had added a third to the mix. "Please."

I froze dead in my tracks, unsure of what I had done wrong. Vee stood beside me just as perplexed as I was, though she slowly but subtly began to slide herself in front of me, as if putting herself between me and Five. I backtracked to the truck and sat down on the ground, out of the way of Jova who seemed unconcerned with what was happening. I wanted to ask Five what was wrong but every time I opened my mouth, something told me to stop, that her answer was either something she would not want to share or would be something I wouldn't want to hear. I kept trying to convince myself to ask, but before I could work up the courage, snapping branches and crunching leaves drew my attention to the forest.

"Commander has returned," Jova said, not even bothering to look up from his work. I wondered if his helmet had a communicator or something inside.

Either way, he was right. Commander Argo and the other two skirmishers -- Edix and Sally, if I recalled -- came trudging out from the woods into camp, their legs caked from the knees down in mud with streaks running through it, as if they had already tried to clean it off and had given up. I didn't know of any nearby streams nor had it rained for several days, so I wasn't sure where the mud had come from. Dead leaves stuck to them, though underneath I could see bright green flashes of some grass or reeds of some sort.

"C-sticks again, I'm afraid. Another unsuccessful hunt," said Argo, clapping Five on the shoulder as he walked by. She straightened up immediately, like she hadn't just a moment ago been on the verge of some kind of breakdown. "Liam, Vee, this way, please."

I took one more look at Five before Vee and I fell in behind Argo and we made our way into the tent I had been interrogated in last night. A few of those tablets  I had seen packed away laid scattered about, but only one had a soft glow emanating from its screen.

"C-sticks? What are those?"

"Calorie sticks," Argo said, taking a small bite of something that looked a lot like a stick of jerky. "Standard ADVENT issue, ultra-dense nutrition made entirely of plant protein and synthetic vitamin supplements that provides all of a trooper's dietary needs. Suitable for human consumption as well, though they often complain it sits heavily on their stomachs -- like a ton of bricks, I've heard one say."

He broke off a tiny piece about half the size of my thumbnail and offered it to me. "This is only to taste; a full portion is indicated by the indents on the stick  itself. It is imperishable and one stick lasts a human for a week." He gestured for me to try it before handing a much larger portion to Vee, who ate it without a second thought.

It was obnoxiously chewy and tough, like gum that was long, long overdue to be spat out. Just by how it looked, I was surprised to find it was nearly entirely bland and odorless; the one thing I could detect was a faint herbal scent that reminded me mostly of mint but it lacked the strength of the real thing. Even as small a piece as I had eaten, I swore I could feel it hit the bottom of my stomach like a rock. My morning hunger was sated almost instantly, though it sure wasn't as satisfying as getting real food into my belly.

Argo put the rest of the C-stick away into one of the many pouches lining his belt. "With breakfast taken care of, what questions might you have for me before we discuss your journey north? If you lived in seclusion as you describe, you must have many questions about the world today. And given by how little your viper friend speaks, I will hazard a guess that she is still coming to grips with speaking human languages instead of only understanding them and cannot ably answer all of your inquiries."

I had a few questions on my mind that felt more important, but one in particular had been nagging me since last night. "Why do you all speak so -- what's the word I'm looking for -- highly? Fancy? Like it's not how people talk anymore. All of you sound like something out of an old play."

He allowed himself a genuine laugh which put me well enough at ease, though the nature of his voice made it sound louder, more raucous. "A remnant of our former servitude to the false gods. In all of Earth's languages, our vocabulary, articulation, grammar -- everything  was specifically designed to induce subservience during the earliest stages of the invasion and subsequent insertion into all levels of human society. When one speaks authoritatively, others tend to listen whether they submit to that authority or not. It was one of the myriad ways the false gods maintained careful control of ADVENT's image."

"Insertion into all levels of human society? What are you getting at? Alien teachers, doctors? That sort of thing?" I couldn't keep myself from chuckling at the thought.

"Yes. Initially, clone rejects and mutations were recycled -- broken down and reused in other projects," Argo said. I was surprised at first but I did seem to recall XCOM's broadcast exposing most of ADVENT as clones. I wondered if his subordinates looked the same as he did. "But the false gods found a new use for them. Instead of breaking down the flawed viper that was hatched with a smaller hood or without venom sacs, she was instead put into a gene clinic as a nurse to care for the ill and injured. The trooper created with the wrong pigmentation was made into someone's friendly neighbor, meant to smile and wave when he saw you step out to your mailbox. Every seemingly insignificant action ADVENT ever took was at the direction of the false gods, meant to ingratiate their forces into human society."

"Okay, hang on," I said, fighting back chills at the mention of sentient beings being recycled. "So the most advanced alien beings we've ever known are making clones and somehow things go wrong? Like with your brain chip for instance -- why was that not programmed with some sort of fail-safe? If a chip was broken off from the mind control network or whatever you call it, why not have it blow up or something to prevent the, er, slave from rebelling?"

"The simple answer -- and one I'm sure you'll find lacking, as every human does -- is hubris. Though we cannot ask them ourselves now, one can only assume they believed their grand designs perfect, their biological machinations infallible. No fail-safes were made because their control would never fail. When they were producing millions of clones and only a handful turn up flawed, they must not have thought it was a design defect but merely a random act of the universe -- a short circuit, perhaps. Who can say at this point? We still are unsure of how the first skirmisher broke free."

So defects were not unheard of, but were never taken as evidence of a problem in the system. I guess that made sense, even if it did leave me unsatisfied like Argo had guessed it would. The same principle applied to engineering and manufacturing. If a process was made that churned out a million parts, the process would not be changed if just one part came out defective. They would just chuck the defect away and keep going. I decided to switch topics, given that Argo had just admitted nobody actually knew why defects existed.

"How do you guys choose names?" I asked with the point of eventually pivoting to Five's strange behavior. "Five was telling me only officers were given them, so that means you guys are coming up with stuff like Argo and Jova on your own."

"It is nothing as ceremonial or sentimental as you may imagine. We simply comb through our knowledge of Earth's languages and combine sounds until we find something that strikes us. Many of us choose something short and simple, as it is easy to remember and easier for humans to pronounce. The name itself is mostly unimportant, outweighed by the symbolism of being designated as something other than one of the false gods' rank-and-file."

I couldn't figure out how to connect his answer to Five, so I just strung his answer to my next question as best I could. "Could a decision like that make you act strangely? Like the pressure was getting to you?" Argo cocked his head and stared blankly, unsure of what I was getting at. I explained to him what had happened just before he returned to camp -- how I had barely begun to help Jova before Five suddenly became jittery and pleaded for me to stop.

Argo sighed heavily, swallowing away a lump in his throat. Even Vee was now paying attention, as curious as I was.

"Five is our most recent addition, liberated just three weeks ago from her garrison further north. She held many positions during her servitude, but by far the longest and most grueling was her position at a labor camp -- a benign term for death camp, one of many where all dissidents, undesirables, rebels, and criminals would end up. Five would stand guard, watching humans work themselves to literal death. The work wasn't even important; ADVENT possessed enormously automated manufacturing capability already. It was simply torture. Squalid conditions, near daily killings -- it was not a place anyone would want to be, alien or human. Even though she was controlled, compelled...those memories did not disappear with the psionic network. She is deeply traumatized, and I imagine standing watch over you as you helped -- even out of the kindness of your own heart -- brought her past surging to the forefront of her mind.

"All of us live with these memories. We come to terms with it in our own ways, but it's not easy. It took me months to reconcile my new life with all the human blood that stained my hands as a result of the false gods' control over me."

I looked uneasily at Vee, feeling something like doubt bubbling up in the pit of my stomach. She knew I was watching her because she conspicuously stared straight ahead. All I could see from her were the subtle starts of a frown. Why did it bother me? From the moment I had met her I had guessed she was responsible for some death. She even confirmed it over dinner, telling me that her job boiled down to being a hunter-killer. Being twenty years old, she had probably seen plenty of action during ADVENT's occupation of Earth. What bothered me was that I don't think I'd heard her yet express an ounce of regret. Where I spilled my guts to the first person I had met in eight years, she still closely guarded herself -- as was her right, given that much of the world these days probably wanted her dead. She wasn't like Argo, telling me how long it had taken her to come to terms with what she had done. She wasn't like Five, visibly distressed over anything that brought up memories of her past life.

Argo's large eyes shifted between Vee and I as he crossed his arms. I guess even an idiot could have picked up on the sudden change in the tent, so it must have been incredibly obvious to him. "But the past is past. Everyone must work through it. Some are lucky enough to have understanding company, and some must do it by their lonesome," he said as he grabbed a tablet from the table. He switched it on and spun it to face me; a map dominated its display. "But I'm afraid I must stop the questions now; our fuel drop will arrive shortly, and then we must be on our way. We must speak of your journey north."

He swiped his fingers across the screen before magnifying the east coast of the United States. Former United States, I guess. The borders of the formerly ADVENT-regulated zone popped up, and he pointed at a specific grid square.

"This is where we are now. And City 31," he said, sliding the map up and up and up, "is over here. That's nearly one thousand kilometers if you followed the main thoroughfare, or about six hundred miles. If you had transport, it would be a days trip, even with frequent stops, but you would pass through reported ADVENT hotspots and heavily populated resistance zones. Given the chaos that now grips much of the world, I would avoid contact with others as much as possible. Vee, you're liable to be shot on sight, and you, Liam, are likely to be taken prisoner if not executed for being a suspected collaborator. Refugee zones are especially suspicious of aliens right now, so stay clear of them as well. Now, look here."

He slid the map a hair to the right and the image shifted, showing the glowing line that denoted the borders of the Eastern Trade Zone or whatever it was ADVENT had called it. "A majority of Earth's population still resides in the formerly ADVENT-controlled trade zones. If you stay outside their borders, your chances improve dramatically. The only caveat being the wilds are patrolled by other aliens still just as ruthless as they were under ADVENT control. We tracked berserkers wandering here, here, and here, and further north of them was a pod of chryssalids. Though dangerous to all who cross their paths, they are more predictable in their animalistic tendencies than humans or other aliens."

He zoomed out again and highlighted several points along our intended path, jabbing each with his finger to make sure we understood what he was about to say. "Under no circumstances should you ever attempt to traverse any cities outside of the trade zone's borders. I cannot possibly stress this enough. They are overrun by Lost, and a crumbling cityscape makes for long, treacherous traversal. Going around a dead city is preferable in all cases, even if it adds days or weeks to your travel."

"Purifiers. Failed?" Vee hissed, narrowing her eyes at the several glowing spots on the map.

"The purifier squads were never going to stop them. As far as we could tell, their only job was containment." I had no clue what either of them were talking about so I just kept my mouth shut and waited for Argo to move on. "You have a long way to go, Liam and Vee. If you are able to cover twenty miles a day, you're looking at about a month of walking. Safely secure whatever transport you can whenever you can. Avoid the dead cities at all costs and the living ones if you are able. Your possessions are waiting by the truck, along with some provisions we can spare. You'll each have a month's worth of c-sticks, and Liam -- you'll have a pair of boots and two pairs of socks.

That picked me right up. Didn't even have to trade for them. I guess being clones, they all shared the same size and had plenty to spare. I wasn't worried about the hiking so long as I had some good boots. A month of walking was certainly more than I had ever done before in my life, but I was no stranger to the outdoors. Dad and granddad were both avid hikers and they'd bring me along on their shorter trips.

"You may take this datapad as well; the map is fully interactive and marked with suspected problem areas," he said, pushing the tablet across the table into Vee's hands. "I wish the both of you best of luck. Truly, I do. Should you encounter any other skirmisher cells, bring up my name. I will vouch for you."

"Thank you, Commander Argo." I thought using his rank and name sounded more respectful. He walked us to the tent's opening and had Five bring us to our things by the truck. They had already packed up the rest of the camp. The other tent was gone, the fire barrel was in the truck and all evidence of a campsite had been practically erased. Not even the fire's ashes had been left behind, presumably scattered to the wind. With everything gone, the place looked like just another piece of nature. Were they actively trying to hide their trail? From what? These skirmishers seemed like professionals; what could possibly scare them into covering their tracks so thoroughly? It must be standard operating procedure for them, like some sort of special ops stuff. I wouldn't leave evidence behind if I was a super soldier-type in the wilderness. Maybe that was why Vee had lost the trail as we had gotten closer to their camp; they had done an impeccable job cleaning up the scene of the firefight.

All of our stuff was exactly where Argo had said, packed even more neatly than Vee had done. Even the shotgun was there, leaned against the hiking pack. Vee grabbed that first and checked to see if it was loaded while I took a look at the boots. They didn't appear the same as the skirmishers' angular black boots beneath their armor. These were sort of nondescript with a tan color like sand; they were just regular hiking boots. Luckily they fit comfortably enough, but a faint spatter of blood across the top gave me pause, and it was then I remembered Eric and Gerard had been forced to leave Donovan's body behind.

"We do not loot the dead," Five said, noticing the reason for my hesitation. "Refugee centers are facing shortages of every kind. We gather everything that can be reused so that others do not go wanting."

I wondered if she thought I had been judging her. Not that I could, though. Half of our stuff was taken from Eric and Gerard. "What did you do with him? His body, I mean."

"He was given a proper burial," she said. She returned my surprise with her own. "It was the right thing to do."

Vee paused for just a second, like a machine going through a negligible hitch. She just kept checking our bags, clearly faking indifference to my scrutiny in that moment.

"Before you go, Liam and Vee, I wanted to ask you both something." Five waited until she had our attention; it was a bit longer as Vee had to repack everything she had checked and seemed unwilling to stop even for a moment. "I've given some thought to a name. I feel meeting an...agreeable viper and a human unperturbed by our appearance is significant. And I enjoy how simple your names are. Would either of you be opposed if I took the name Veelee? I still haven't been able to choose a name, but this one could be a candidate."

Veelee. Vee. Liam, minus the second syllable. Sort of cute, to be honest. Sounded feminine enough, though I don't know if that was important to a skirmisher. Jova and Edix sounded unisex, so maybe masculinity and femininity didn't matter. I felt a smile growing across my face as I repeated the name in my head, taking some small amount of pride in unwittingly helping someone choose something so important to them. Vee looked at me and shrugged; she didn't seem to mind at all and made no objections as she shouldered the hiking pack and then slipped the smaller one onto my back.

"Go for it. Sounds like a good name. I'm sure you'll be happy with whatever you choose."

I felt a rumbling in my bones and a shrill roar bordering on screaming grow louder and louder in mere seconds. Some sort of four-engine airship floated down low enough to just skim the top of the trees, obscuring the sun and casting the area in shade. It was hard to tell from the ground, but it looked like a side door opened, and a line dropped out to hit the dirt. Three canisters slid down the line by way of a motorized equipment harness. The moment they were in reach, the skirmishers grabbed them and emptied them into the truck's tank, and then the empty canisters were sent back up. The airship immediately departed and all was quiet once again. What surprised me most was the entire exchange had probably taken less than five minutes. By the time the airship had shrunk away again into the sky, all of the skirmishers were loaded up into the truck, the back door left wide open and waiting only for Five.

"Good luck, Liam and Vee. I hope you make it to City 31. I hear things are nicer there for non-humans."

"Thanks. For everything, I mean. Especially the boots." I wanted to offer her some sort of forgiveness, something that told her she couldn't hold herself responsible for a former life that had never been hers to begin with. I couldn't put it into words nor did I know if she would take me seriously, and on second thought I didn't know if it was even my forgiveness to give. I just offered my hand instead. She recoiled and I wondered for a moment if she even knew what I was doing. A second later she grabbed hold with crushing gusto and shook me comically hard, like it was the first handshake she'd ever gotten. Those armored suits they wore must do something for their strength because she nearly took me off my feet.

"You are most welcome," she said. It was amusing that even with her two-tone voice, it was still easy to hear the smile behind her words.

A moment later she was gone and the truck disappeared roughly eastward on a dirt path that could barely be called a makeshift road, and only just wide enough to fit the vehicle. It looked frequently used; how many times throughout my isolation had others traveled so close to my home and I had never known?

Behind me, Vee had her face buried in the datapad. I stood on my toes to try and peer over her shoulder but still wasn't tall enough. She slightly hunched forward to give me a better look and I saw her making adjustments to the path Argo had laid out. Though it was a little different, I recognized the interstate system and saw the roads like capillaries running across the country. She traced a claw over the screen, moving the map further and further north until we saw our destination in front of us like a carrot on the end of the longest stick.

"No roads. At all," she said. "Dangerous. Well-traveled. Stay in wilds. Just beyond."

"Does your name bother you?" That got her to look up from the screen, her features softening into a questioning look that asked me why we were revisiting this. "Names were so important to them. Making one up on their own was like...the first step towards being their own person. I never meant to take that from you if you wanted it."

"Like Vee. Good name. Given by good--," she whispered like she was embarrassed to admit it, tearing her eyes from mine to look down at the screen again. I could tell she was about to choose her words carefully by how her jaw seemed to shift before she even spoke, as though we were back in the living room of the house with her learning how to move her mouth to make the right sounds. "Name was offered. I chose to take -- it. I chose to take it."

"Hey, pronouns! I was wondering when they were going to show up!"

She sighed, punctuating it with a low, angry-sounding hiss, and spun around to make her way through the forest at a faster than usual clip.

"Come on, I didn't mean to make you feel bad. Hey, wait up! Seriously, I don't want to run into a chrysalis on my own, or whatever it was Argo said. Vee!"

-Chapter 9-

We stuck to the wilds just as told, skirting the edges of the East Coast trade zone's borders, according to the map on the datapad. Though still quite some distance from any real civilization, small, empty towns and derelict commercial zones a few miles off their highway exits littered our path for the first couple of days. Vee thought we wouldn't hit any true wilderness for at least a week. As such, moving around was still a tense, sometimes aggravatingly slow affair. I had quickly learned that Vee despised empty spaces, and would rather stick to a tree line that went around any wide open clearing even if it took us another couple of hours. The only time this rule didn't apply was if the field was full of tall grass, something for her to sink low into, and for me to crouch down and follow.

Our path was also unavoidably intersected by old residential roads long since unused, and crossing them was an even more stressful undertaking. Vee insisted we sit for a minimum of twenty minutes -- sometimes up to an hour -- just observing the road, watching for any disturbances before we committed to crossing. If there was cover while crossing a street, she was more comfortable. Wrecked cars, an overturned tanker, a old military barricade from the invasion days -- anything at all that could break up lines of sight from even one direction made her noticeably less anxious, but no less cautious.

We sat tight for thirty minutes, waiting to see if anyone or anything else was watching the same little stretch of dilapidated road as we were. Across the street was an old gas station. At least I thought it was old; it had no recharge stations for electric or hybrid vehicles. Between it and us was the road, clogged end to end for at least a quarter mile with burnt out vehicles decades old, blackened and browned by fires and the inevitable encroachment of rust. I didn't see a barricade or pile-up at the front, so I wasn't really sure why this line of cars existed out here in the middle of nowhere.

Vee noticed where my focus was and said, "Ambushed. Probably. Evacuated, then caught in the open. No time to reverse or accelerate. Possible bombardment, followed by deployment of troops."

Her speech was quickly improving. She was beginning to actually talk normally instead of exhaling with every word, and could speak for a little longer each day without having to unnaturally and exaggeratedly pause for breaths between sentences. "Why would aliens just descend on a traffic jam?"

"Terror," she said, her frown deepening. Her forked tongue lashed out to taste the air, longer than usual, like she was straining to pick up any scents she could. Her shoulders sagged and she let go of a quiet breath. I had learned now that meant she was relaxed. "Structure across the street. Four walls, only one side with windows. Good rest stop; defensible."

A quick breather sounded good to me. The sun was high overhead and the heat was just on the verge of being unbearable. How much of an inconvenience the sun was, now that I couldn't just disappear into my home the moment things became hot and sticky. Vee never seemed bothered by the heat. I envied her for that.

She broke cover first and I quickly followed, the both of us dashing to the line of wrecked cars in the street. I had to take care not to trip over the potholes mother nature had carved out, grass and vines uprooting every inch of asphalt that was left. We sidled along for a few moments until finding a vehicle with its doors open, offering cover on three sides when we nestled between them. It was an SUV, apparently loaded up with everything the occupants could have carried. It was so laden down with clothes, coolers, and boxes that it barely had any ground clearance; either that or the rust had caused the suspension to fail, having been out here in the elements for twenty years. The doors were swung as wide open as possible, which made me think whoever had been inside had flung them open and bolted when they saw whatever it was that had scorched the rest of the road.

After a momentary pause and a quick scan of the gas station, Vee slid over the front passenger and driver seats, while I -- afraid of catching a sharp, rusty edge or something -- carefully squeezed myself between the SUV and the sedan in front of it. She moved incredibly fast, her body leaning forward so far it looked like she was perpetually falling as she dashed forward. By the time she was already well inside the gas station, I was just barely reaching the front doors which precariously hung from the frame on busted hinges.

The inside was just as much of a mess as could be expected after decades of isolation. The tiled floor had been uprooted just like the street outside; grass and weeds sprouted up as though they'd found the perfect place to call home, eagerly filling in every crack and crevice that the elements had weathered into the ceramic and concrete beneath. The shelves -- all obviously bare now -- were moved away from the entrance, as though something big had crashed through and effortlessly shoved everything aside. The paint on the walls had long since faded. Among the ugly white now speckled by blank spots of chipped paint, a single faint red stripe ran around the interior at eye level, offering the only bit of color in the place. The coolers were all empty and the glass and plastic shattered, the previously refrigerated drink racks overtaken entirely by molds and an abundance of mushrooms. A sign hung from a chain above the checkout. Though mottled by dirt and much of the image flaked off, it was still just possible to read: free donut with purchase of a large coffee.

If I could have remembered what either of those things tasted like, I might've waxed nostalgic.

"Slow progress," Vee said as she studied the map, coiling her body beneath her. "Should be faster."

"We're shadowing the main highway, aren't we? Even as far as we are from it, we're bound to hit this many roads. Not to mention every clearing we come to has you spooked." She glanced up just to narrow her eyes at me. "I'm not poking fun. Better we move slow than end up dead, right? Like you said, it would be about a week until we hit actual wilderness. Until then, steady as she goes."

She put the datapad back into the hiking pack and decided that while she was in there, she'd take out a small piece of a C-stick.

"Hang on, I've got something better," I said. She paused right before eating it, frozen on the spot like she wasn't sure what I meant. "Better tasting, anyway. You'll still probably want to eat that to get your daily calories."

My backpack, made heavier by my exhaustion and the afternoon heat, was a welcome load off my shoulders, even if just for a few minutes. I dug past the blanket and clothing, past the batteries and first aid kit, and continued to root around. The backpack was so full I couldn't see around its other contents and I wasn't going to empty the bag entirely, so I was forced to rely on touch. Vee cautiously slithered over, perhaps tempering her excitement. The last time I had surprised her, it was something good she had never had before. I wasn't about to disappoint now.

"Here it is," I said, seizing upon the plastic baggie that I knew had been buried somewhere in there. It was the jerky, taken from Eric as he no longer had need of it. There were a handful of long pieces, enough to last two people a couple of weeks as a sparse, intermittent treat. I tore a small bit off for a taste test; it was peppery and with just a tinge of spiciness competing against an equally faint sugary sweetness, a hint of salt beneath it all that told me it had only been meant as a preservative and not as a flavor. Newbies had a tendency to make it too dry, bordering on crunchy. This was tender and soft -- perfectly chewy. Whoever had made it was no novice.

"I think it's venison. Not too sure. It's been a little while since I've had deer or even seen one." She gingerly took the piece offered to her and tasted its aroma, soaking up its flavors through her tongue. It flickered faster and faster, like she couldn't get enough of the scent. It was hard for her to even put it in her mouth, as though she had to fight the temptation to just sit there and continue tasting the air. When she popped it into her mouth, she shot me a look of surprise; I figured I might've known why.

"That's spice," I said, only just now wondering how a snake could actually taste. Then again -- aliens. Who was to say for sure how they worked? "It's not strong so it'll pass in a moment. I know you don't really chew things, but just give it a second. The sweetness hits afterward."

She held it in her mouth, her jaw shifting as perhaps she was using her tongue to move it around. Her shoulders sagged and long, soft hiss slipped past her lips, all the while more and more of her body sank into her coils below. She was actually melting. I couldn't help laughing; I knew we were supposed to stay quiet, but holding it in hurt my sides too much.

"Better than my chicken?" She nodded without a moment's thought. "Ouch," I said with a laugh, watching as she began to gain back control of herself. "God, mankind could've put everybody into a food coma if you had let us. The way my family ran a kitchen would've blown your mind. I wish you guys had come in peace."

She swallowed, suddenly looking rather glum. "I do too."

I thought it would be a good time to press her; did she? Did she regret her part in the invasion and occupation? Did she wish she could wash her hands of the blood that stained them? Was she still trying to overcome the memories and experiences forced onto her by the Elders or did she rationalize it all away by saying it couldn't have been her fault? That last possibility drew a hint of anger from somewhere inside of me that I couldn't figure out. It made sense, but for someone to just clap the responsibility from their hands like dust and move on seemed callous, cruel even. To not show a modicum of remorse, or even a second spent wishfully thinking it could have happened differently, even though one was mind-controlled into doing it...

Vee tightened her coils around herself, as though she were closing herself off. Maybe she knew why I had grown silent. I wasn't angry at her, however. I hadn't known her for long, but I don't think anybody could call her callous or cruel now. And the regret was certainly there; she wished things could have happened differently. But most of humanity would not care. I wondered if maybe that's why she hadn't really opened up to me yet -- I was still 'most of humanity' to her in some form or fashion.

She took out the datapad again and pretended to study the map even more intently than before, even though our path had not changed. "We should move. Soon."

"Yeah. Okay, just let me, uh, take care of business." Vee looked at me quizzically, motioning to the immediate surroundings. "I'm not a savage. if there's a room for it, I'll do it there."

An open door in the back of the gas station still bore the universal blue-and-white signs of male and female above the frame. I made my way towards it, curiously noting how the empty shelves seemed pushed away from the most direct path to the restroom. Something big had stormed through the store and made a beeline to the restroom. The hair on the back of my neck began to tingle, but imagining even aliens feeling nature's call in the middle of an invasion got a little laugh out of me and the fear dissipated.

Only to rise again when three skeletons and their empty eye sockets stared at me from the darkest corner of the restroom.

"Holy shit!" I stumbled backwards, knocking into the closest shelf. In an instant Vee was beside me, her hand on my shoulder ready to yank me backward, though her grip loosened when she saw there was no immediate danger. "I'm fine, I'm fine. They just startled me."

Two skeletons sat in the corner. A smaller skeleton sat between the two, and I had the overwhelming sense that I should not have looked, that I had walked in on an intensely private moment that no other person had ever been meant to see. A rusted revolver laid between the legs of one of the adults, resting against the pelvic bones, and a thick layer of moss or lichen or something grew up and over their legs like a blanket. They must have died defending themselves. I couldn't bear to look anymore and averted my gaze, only for my eyes to happen upon a child's backpack that bore the same brand as some of the luggage I had seen in the SUV still out in the street. Vee saw it too and slithered past me for a closer look, her focus sharpening like she was tracking another trail.

"Ran from vehicle. Sheltered here," she said, running her hand across the crater in the thick wooden door. She stared long and hard at it before turning to look at the shelves all messily rearranged by whatever had crashed through the store. "Plasma fire there and there; a muton pursued. Pushed shelving aside. Punched door open. Found family here." She picked up the revolver and checked the cylinder; I could hear it groan from the rust and grit caught in the mechanism, and the moment she finally managed to get the cylinder to move, it fell off entirely into her waiting hand. Her attention turned to the skeleton closest to the gun. She studied it, looking at it from every angle; dread flooded my mind when she pointed out a single hole in each of the skulls that I had failed to notice. "Male. Shot other two, then himself."

I swallowed loudly enough to break Vee from her trance-like state. Shame flashed across her features for just a moment, but she added, "Merciful. Plasma wounds painful. Muton's rage brutal."

I sure as hell didn't have the irreverence to do any business anywhere near them, nor did I want to be near such a scene at all; I was never the superstitious type but after hearing how things had gone down, the whole building suddenly felt cursed, the air itself heavy and choking. We packed up in silence, and after a quick stop by some bushes, we were on our way again through the woods behind the gas station.

That could have easily been me and my family. On our drive to the farmhouse, we could've been caught in a convoy or traffic jam. We could have been descended upon by some hulking monstrosity, and try as we might to run, maybe we might've ended up like those three skeletons. Dad had been so serious and taciturn when it came to defending the house, never saying a word when the time came but never backing away from any danger that threatened us. It had always been a fellow human, though. Would he still have had that resolve when faced with something that could wreck a store interior on its own, or knock a thick, heavy door right off its hinges? At the end of my questions I found one that seemed to overshadow all the rest: could there have been a point where he would have given up hope?

I had no clear answer, only an increasingly disturbing amount of hypothetical scenarios and gruesome ends. I distracted myself with the world around me; there were birds, alerting one another and endlessly bickering about territory or bragging how great a pick they were for a mate. Though still bright daylight, the moon was just visible in the sky, pale and faint, waiting for just a few more hours until it could glow as it always did. The crickets sensed the drop in temperature as the day wore on and began to chirp their own incessant songs. Things seemed so similar, like the invasion had never happened. As far as anyone could ever tell, this was a normal autumn day. Save for the giant, intelligent, two-armed snake keeping pace beside me.

"Hey, Vee..."

I don't see any scars on you besides the two gunshots; how do you know plasma is painful? What would the muton had done to them that makes you think a father being forced to kill his own family is the merciful way out? Why did you have to explain what had happened? Why couldn't you have just let me think they had died fighting?

I sighed. "What was your home like? Your planet, I mean."

"Do not know. Earthborn."

"I know, but there's records right? Pictures or video?"

"Possibly. Do not know. Information of all kinds. Closely guarded by Elders."

"What, like it's all secret?"

"Or erased."

So Vee actually had no place to truly call home. She didn't even know if they had a home planet. Maybe they never did. What if they were totally engineered as a species? Not just hatched for the singular purpose of fighting, but designed from the outset, the very first cell in their bodies grown with the intent of making the perfect war-fighter. With this, there'd be a total lack of culture, of anything that defines them as a people. There'd be no history, no heritage, no ancestry -- just an endless assembly line that spat out killers to enforce a regime as alien to them was they were to us. But that couldn't be the case -- if the Elders had made the perfect warrior, why would there be a need to mind control it? Should it not also been engineered to be loyal?

And they had language. Vee had said so, when I had asked if I could learn some of it. I've heard her use different types of hissing, some with different pitches or intensity, some short and bursting with violent energy and others that seemed soft and inquisitive. Language implies some sort of culture. It's a means to communicate ideas and knowledge, to form identities and social groups. As far as I knew, no culture had ever existed without a language, and no language had ever existed that did not belong to a culture. They speak, therefore they are.

"I'll bet you guys have a world just like ours. Forests and plains, oceans and deserts. Critters everywhere. Blue skies -- hell, green for all I know -- that stretch all the way to the horizon, some pink clouds or some other oddity. Maybe two suns or something else weird, like Tatooine -- damn, I can't use references on you."

"Good place to visit."

"Right? Shoot, I'd go." She turned, an odd little smirk tugging at the corners of her scaly lips. "What?"

"Would not leave house for twenty years. Now you go to another planet?"

"Hell, I'm this far from home already. What's another couple hundred thousand or million light years?"

She did it again; that slow, stuttering sort of hiss that Commander Argo had said was a viper's laugh. It was obviously different from what I was used to, but it seemed to hold the same power as any other human's laugh; the mood lightened and her guard was down even if for a moment. Vee was approachable, vulnerable. The soldier I knew she was disappeared and for a fleeting moment -- even with the scales, even with the snake body and large predatory eyes, even with the giant mouth and its two huge fangs -- she was more what I would call a normal person.

And in the next moment the soldier was back with a vengeance; her scowl deepened nearly to the point of actual anger, her hood seemed to flare wider than usual, and a short, harsh hiss froze me in place.

"Don't move," she instructed. I was only vaguely aware of a line of pressure against my shin, as though I were about to trip over something. It was like an out-of-body experience, like I was watching someone else press their leg against a trap, feeling the tension knot my stomach as I waited for them to violently meet their end; I was watching a movie. It wasn't me. It couldn't be.

"Don't move," she said again, sinking down to look. I wanted so badly to see what she saw, to just tilt my head down a few degrees to see how my death would come, but Vee's tone was commanding, assertive -- it was like she had a plan already. That little shred of hope was enough for me to grab hold of; sort of like trying to hold onto a fistful of sand, but it was better than nothing.

"Trip wire," she whispered. "No effect. Yet. Must be tension-release. Old Earth military. Possibly. Don't move."

Her body gradually slipped from the edge of my peripheral vision and I heard her moving further and further away. My heart did it's best to jump up out of my throat but dread pulled it all the way back down into my gut; she was leaving me.

"Vee?"

"Wait." Wait for what? For her to get a head start and clear the blast radius? It was prudent, I guessed, though the logic did nothing for the cold sweat drenching my entire body.

"It's fine. It was a good run, wasn't it? If this is as far as I go, don't feel bad about it. I don't want you getting hurt if you can avoid it. Is it going to be quick?"

There was no answer, only the sound of her moving further away, oddly as if she were in the trees. My death was on my time now; it was a curiously comforting thought to know I would die only when I felt like moving my foot, and my breaths deepened and the tightness in my chest faded.So this was it. I survived an alien invasion for twenty years, was the last of my family as far as I knew, and in a week everything fell apart at the seams in the most absurd ways. Befriending an alien, being called a collaborator, having my house burnt down and being protected by alien clones afterwards. That was more excitement in the last week than I had experienced since the invasion, but I couldn't say it had been worth it if this was how I was going to go out. And after everything -- what had I done with my life? My parents died protecting their children. My brother helped fight and win a war against an overpowering alien force. And there was my life, sitting in the back of the proverbial bus hoping to escape notice, all the while not understanding it wasn't even worthy of any sort of notice to begin with.

Still, befriending an alien was something not too many people would get to look back on, I imagined. As strange a consolation as any in dire straits like mine, but I couldn't focus on anything else. I had said goodbye to my parents and come to to terms long ago with the probable death of my brother, Alex. and now, here at the end, I just found myself wishing I could've known Vee a little longer.

"Done." Her voice beside me again nearly startled me enough to make me lose my balance.

"Done what? What's done?"

"Trap disarmed," she said, holding up what looked like a haphazardly made chandelier of glass jars and bottles befitting an apocalyptic ballroom. "Simple noise alarm. Suspended in the trees. No explosives."

I immediately doubled over, falling hard onto my hands and knees, and emptied out the scant contents of my stomach. Even when nothing was left I couldn't help but to keep heaving until my chest ached from the strain and burnt from the awful aftertaste of bile. I felt like crying but I didn't have the energy for even a single tear or sob after I had finally regained control of myself. Still panting, and with one or two more dry heaves, I wiped my mouth and sat up on my knees, suddenly feeling a lot lighter -- figuratively and literally.

"Drink some water," Vee demanded as she collected the tripwire into a spool around her wrist. I unhooked the canteen from its loop on my overalls and took a small swig; she stared expectantly, so I took another drink and she went back to gathering the wire. When she was done, we were both looking at about twelve feet of strong, ultra-thin wire. I wasn't exactly an outdoor survivalist, but even I saw a myriad of uses for that. I could've even used it around the house, so it was a no-brainer to take it with us out here. Fishing, snares, lashing things together -- we could use it for anything.

"I wish you had said something sooner, holy hell. I was literally seconds away from moving my foot."

"I said don't move."

"Yeah, but then you didn't answer and I heard you getting further away. I thought you were just getting to a safe distance."

"Won't leave you," she quickly added, turning away to stash the wire in her hiking pack. Her voice in that moment was softer and trailed off at the end. It left me feeling very strange for reasons I couldn't pin down, but it wasn't something I had heard from her before. I wasn't so great with people these days, but I knew that when someone didn't want to look at me, they were usually hiding something; she took suspiciously long just to put some wire away.

"Noise alarm," she said before I could get a word out, pointing at the bottles and jars on the ground. "What does it mean?"

"It means someone's been here before," I said, leaving behind her behavior from a moment ago.

"Can you tell when?"

It took me a moment to realize she was trying to teach me. After all, she had been a soldier; she could kill, track, deduce just as well as any detective, apparently. The only reasons for her questions were for my benefit. "I guess sort of recently, right? The bottles look mostly clean. There's no mold or anything growing inside."

"Good guess. If hung recently, what would that mean?" I had to think on that for more than a moment; she could see I was getting hung up and changed her question. "Type of alarm is noise. What is its purpose?"

"Alert someone to movement."

"Yes. Which means--"

"Which means someone would have to be nearby to hear it."

She took the datapad from her pack and switched it on, then pointed to a group of buildings a little ways off our current position. "Good. Map marks a residential area. Half a mile north. Makes sense?"

"Placing an alarm that you've got to be able to hear so far away doesn't seem right. Why would it be so far off?"

"Deterrent. Or perhaps somebody patrols the area. Understand?"

I suddenly felt like I had more than one set of eyes on me, but Vee's attitude remained unchanged even with her revelation someone else may be nearby. She probably would have smelled them already if they were close. "I think so. So do we want to go around or--"

"No. Open fields to the west; if it were me, I would watch fields for use. Dense commercial zone east, past major roads. Through residential zone risky, but arguably safer. Many vantage points, but plenty of cover. Stay very close, do exactly as instructed. Understand?"

"Crystal clear."

We crept along at a much slower pace than before. She still led the way on our approach to the neighborhood. It was a good thing too, because we came across three more of the same type of trap, more tightly clustered the further we went; she disarmed one more for another spool of wire -- just in case. We stopped at the edge of the treeline in the backyard of what looked like half of a house, the second floor mysteriously gone with the only hint it had ever been there was a staircase I could see through a rotted out wall. The back porch was entirely green with mold and mildew, wildly overgrown by weeds and vines that poked through every window and door, like mother nature herself was breaking and entering. The inside was no different; as we moved through the interior, each room was like its own ecosystem. A small patch dandelions in the corner of what looked to be the kitchen caught my attention; something moved from flower to flower. I thought it was just a mote of dust or pollen at first, but on closer inspection I had my breath stolen from me.

"Holy shit," I gasped. Vee's eyes snapped to me, then to where I was pointing. "I haven't seen a bumblebee in years. I thought they went extinct." She was not nearly as impressed as I was and only reminded me to stay quiet by pressing a finger to her lips. "Sorry."

We continued through the house, still wary of traps and of what laid beyond. We paused at the front door still tightly shut and peered through the sidelights. Again, I was dumbstruck by what waited for us outside.

There was not a single glimpse of black asphalt or white sidewalk to be seen. Every square inch of space in this abandoned neighborhood had been overtaken by nature, who had seen fit to plant a veritable garden smack dab in the middle of it all. From one end of the street to the other, porch to porch, the entire ground was overrun by the most breathtaking display of color I had seen outdoors since the invasion. Wildflowers of every kind and hue had sprung up in such chaos that the place seemed clogged to the point of being impassable. Bees swarmed everywhere, looking like specks of black from this distance that easily sprung out against the backdrops of reds, yellows, and whites. A single house down the street was recognizable only in shape; nature had seen fit to convert it to one giant flowerbed, though for some reason the other homes were left about as intact as the one we were in.

I could see the change in Vee's posture, how she slouched and silently flicked her tongue as she looked out over the sea of color constantly shifting in the wind. I knew she saw the copious amounts of cover the tall grass and flowers would provide, but part of me wondered if she saw the same little paradise that I did -- the burst of color long overdue in a dreary world. Whether she did or not, I couldn't tell; she firmly pushed open the door and quickly slithered into the grass, seemingly swallowed up entirely by the vast green tide. I followed close behind, but no sooner had we made it halfway across when Vee suddenly stopped, her tongue furiously lashing out and her eyes wide open and alert. I silently mouthed 'what' to her.

"Blood," she hissed.

"Hello? Is somebody there?" Another voice in the grass made my heart skip a beat; Vee's eyes focused like lasers in the direction it had come from, even though she could only see green. "Please, I'm hurt pretty bad. I was passing through and hit some kind of trap. I need help."

I rose to see what I could; a man in a red short-sleeved shirt trudged through the wildflowers with one hand up to shield his eyes from the sun. With a forceful hissing, Vee tugged me down by my arm. "Don't."

"He says he's hurt, you said you smelled blood, and we know there are traps around. I can't just leave someone like that. What if he's bleeding out or something? We can help him. We haven't used any of the first aid stuff from the house."

Before she could answer or tighten her grip, I sprang up to wave hello. He looked kind of middle-aged, maybe late forties or fifties; a salt-and-mostly-pepper beard covered the lower half of face. His red shirt was plaid, the sleeves torn off just a few inches down from his armpits. One hand waved back while the other stayed hidden below the grass-line; it moved limply, like it could only sway with the movements of his body. He wore a fisherman's vest, a few pockets stuffed full of odds and ends I couldn't make out from this distance. He had a bright smile on, happy to see another human in all this mess.

Vee loosed another hiss, this one much louder and angrier sounding, before popping up beside me to assess the situation. Oddly, the man was unperturbed by her appearance and continued to approach.

"Favors right side; possible weapon on waist," she whispered behind me. "Left arm movements do not support injury; holding something heavy, possibly a long gun. Smile is disingenuous; lower eyelids do not move with the smile. Facial expression inconsistent; motor tics of the mouth and eyes. Don't."

A sound I hadn't hear before -- a sort of worrying groan -- drew my attention to Vee. "Please just trust me on this. I've been alone for a while but I'm pretty sure I still know how normal people act. He's got a limp and a bum arm, and he's just trying to grin and bear it. I am human. I know humans."

When I turned around, his other arm, previously hidden from sight was raised and pointed in my direction; a deafening boom just over my shoulder made my ears ring and all I could do was merely flinch away, too paralyzed by fear to duck or throw myself to the ground. The man crumpled backwards, his arm going high and a bullet cracked the air over my head like a whip. Vee advanced with the shotgun still at the ready, pushing me aside to storm ahead to where my would-be killer had fallen. I saw her look down into the grass and stand watch over him for just a few moments. Her shoulders sagged. That should have been it, but then she tensed up again, glaring at me as she returned to my side. The embarrassment was -- overwhelming couldn't even begin to describe it. I didn't even have time to be amazed at how quickly it all had gone down.

"What did I say?" She tersely whispered, barely moving her mouth as she angrily forced each word out. "What did I say? Repeat it!"

"I'm sorry, I won't--"

Her eyes narrowed to slits so thin I couldn't even make out her pupils; just paper-thin red lines etched into her face through which all her fury seeped through. "Repeat. It."

"Do exactly as instructed," I said, meekly looking at the ground. My face burned even more; I was probably nothing more than a child to her, and she the disappointed parent.

She sighed, but it was forced and sharp, like she was trying as hard as she could to vent the building wrath inside of her. "I do not want to do this anymore," she said. "Skills I never asked for and I do not want. Have made it too far from my burned-down garrison to go back to the way things were. Want a new life, understand? Free now! But what good is freedom when I still do the Elder's work for them? Try to avoid killing and the only human I befriend throws himself into trouble at every chance. I need you to--"

She stopped short, every inch of her body slouching just a little as whatever she was holding inside had finally dissipated. She had said her piece and and cleared her mind, and she was back to survival mode. "I need you to search him. Rifle beside him, bullets in his jacket. Take what you can carry."

I wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a dig at me, a subtle reminder of the confrontation of the house where I had told her to get my gun, then turned it down in the dazed confusion of my first gunfight. I remember the shotgun feeling unbearably heavy in my hands, a boulder so heavy it would have been impossible to lift then. So what did she think I could carry? Was this a test? If I came back with a gun in my hands, I would be expected to use it wouldn't I? I knew how -- mechanically, anyway -- but even now, after two hostile encounters where I had skirted death by what felt like milliseconds, I still wasn't sure if I had it in me to pull the trigger on another person. At this point, way out here where Vee and I only had one another to rely on...

That was a weakness, wasn't it? I was holding myself back, and at some point it would endanger her or myself.

The body was marred by too many pellets to count. Most of it had hit him square in the chest, a dark red constellation of entry wounds that spotted his shirt below the neck with holes. Much of what had been in his vest was useless now; some pistol rounds, an empty magazine, a knife, a canteen -- all damaged by the buckshot. On his waist, beneath his shirt, was a handgun, just like Vee had said. He had a full magazine for it strapped to one pouch on his left thigh, below which a large rust-colored stain colored his pant leg from the knee down; that must have been the blood Vee had smelled, old and crusted and belonging to someone else. On the right leg was another pouch with two magazines for his rifle, which looked like an M-16 or something similar. It even had the full auto sign on the selector which civilians were not typically allowed to have back in the day. I wondered if he had gotten it from an old military base or national guard depot, or maybe he had killed a soldier for it. Or maybe he used to be a soldier. Who knew now.

What bothered me most was that Vee had been totally on the money. She laid this guy out on looks alone from a couple dozen feet, down to his intentions and the weapons he carried. The alien snake from a universe away could read humans better than me, the man that had walked this Earth among my own kind for thirty-seven years. It was hard not to be even further embarrassed, and feel even further apart from the rest of the human race. I tried to push those thoughts away as I gathered what I could.

When I was done, something poked out of the grass and followed my face all the way as I stood back up.

It was hard not to laugh at the bad luck, but all I could muster in my shock was a quiet, "Hello."

It was a black woman, a foot shorter than me but looking twice as fierce as I've ever felt even on my worst days. Her hazel eyes bored holes straight through my skull and her gun didn't waver for even a moment. She had her dirty hair swept back into a ponytail, a few short bangs dangling over her forehead marked by a shiny patch of some kind of mechanical grease. That she didn't pull the trigger immediately made me feel just a little better, for what it was worth.

"You kill this guy?"

"Uh, no. She did."

The woman peered around me, keeping the rest of her body eerily still and her gun still frozen inches from my face. "Slowly turn around and tell her to back off."

I didn't even bother putting my hands up; my arms were full anyway, my intention having been to shove it all into my backpack once we had gotten inside of another house. I spun and saw Vee not three feet away, the shotgun held tight to her shoulder and one single blood-red eye peering down the sights. I couldn't tell if the anger she wore was at me or the situation in general. Despite my predicament, I found myself hoping she wasn't upset with me.

"Vee, can we bring the energy down a bit? Just a little? Please?"

"Is that her name?" I nodded. The woman shouted, "Vee, you killed this guy?"

"Yes," she said, slightly hissing the end of the her reply. Vee's eyes flickered from me, then back to the woman that I swore she could see through me. My mind raced between thoughts of this new woman and the man we had just met and killed within two minutes; were they related? Friends or lovers? Partners like Vee and I?

"You lower your gun on three, I lower mine. We talk this out, yeah? You did me a favor, after all." Definitely not friends then.

Vee stared at me. I kept waiting for a signal, a glance or some motion of her hands that told me to hit the dirt or duck or something, anything at all. There was nothing but the disappointment of resignation slowly spreading across her face. No matter what she did, no matter what I did, she could not bet on a sure outcome. No matter who pulled the trigger first, someone was going to end up dead. Probably me. Vee didn't even wait until the count of three. The shotgun fell to her side, and a moment later the barrel that had been pressing into my lower back fell away, too.

"You can call me Penny," said the woman, strolling out from behind me into plain view. "And I know enough that no damn alien with a name's part of ADVENT anymore. Like I said, ya'll did me a favor; this dude was a psychopath and--"

A distant, chittering screech made all of our heads turn. I had no idea what had caused such a sound but for reasons I was unable to explain, it still froze my blood solid in my veins.

"We can't stay out here. This is chryssalid country and they probably heard the shots. My place is in the cul-de-sac down the street. Follow me there and I'll explain more." Penny saw Vee flash me an uneasy look. "Or don't. Enjoy the chryssalids."

She walked away, leaving Vee and I to exchange glances with one another. I nodded my head towards Penny and started walking. Vee hesitated, but quickly caught up to walk beside me, a little ways behind our newest friend, inasmuch as she wasn't trying to kill us.

"You know," I whispered, nudging Vee with my elbow, "I'd love to meet somebody and not have a gun involved. Just once, so I know what it feels like."

It was easy to see Vee was still upset with me; she refused to look at me with her still-narrowed eyes and silently slithered along as if I wasn't even there. But it was also easy to see the little grin she wore, and how she tried to hide it.

-Chapter 10-

Penny's place really was just down the street, across the way from the house completely overrun by flowers. She pushed through the grass and lush shrubs which hid the front steps and then tried to open the dull, wooden door; she struggled for a moment, with how the bottom of it kept getting caught on roots that were constantly looking to extend their reach. Some of them looked like they'd been cut back. I guessed sometimes Penny tried to maintain them, and sometimes she lacked the effort. With a little more strength, she forced the door open, cracking a few branches and smashing a few roots in the process. She welcomed us in and shut the door behind us, for what good it did.

The house as a whole was no better off than the rest of the neighborhood. Much of the inside looked rotted and the air felt breezy, no doubt due to the many broken windows and holes in the walls worn away by time. A spider's web blocked access to the room immediately left of the foyer, it's fat-bodied proprietor still as a statue in the center of it all, surrounded by the webbed-up empty husks of its prey. We passed it by and veered right up a staircase. Vee and I hesitated but Penny marched straight up; the steps were surprisingly sturdy and though they groaned loudly with any weight atop them, not once did I feel any softness underfoot that made me think I was about to fall through. Upstairs was not nearly as wild-looking as the ground floor. There was less plant life and as a result, fewer insects. It looked more like just a ruined old house up here, instead of a ruined old house pervaded by nature like down there. One room was closed off, the next one had an empty crib and a broken mobile on the floor -- a family had lived here at some point. At the end of the hall was what I assumed to be the master bedroom; it was the biggest room I had seen so far and by the surprisingly intact windows was a large bed frame, both ends leaning inwards due to a break in the center.

"Welcome to Chateau de Penny, full of five-star amenities: luxury sofa cushions by the window, world-renowned music on a state-of-the-art sound system that sometimes works, some dirty sheets and blankets, and venetian blinds with a black-out curtain. Pool's closed indefinitely for repairs, though. Make yourselves comfy." Penny strolled over to an electric lamp sitting on the floor by the broken bed frame and switched it on, bathing the room in a weak white light. A couple roaches scattered, disappearing into one of the many holes scattered about the room. After a moment of silence, she turned around to see me still standing in place, solidly frozen and unsure of the situation as a whole. Vee had made herself instantly at home, however. "What?"

I kept quiet, though I imagined my eyes spoke volumes.

"Chill, would you? I already said ya'll did me a favor. The guy that bought it outside was a psychopath, a straight-up, cold-blooded killer. He showed up about three or four months ago and I kept tabs on him. He took to killing people that wandered through the fields out west, taking their supplies for himself. but it wasn't really for survival, see? I spied on him a few times -- he was smiles the whole time. Reveled in it, wore his victims' blood like a fuckin' badge of honor. Real sicko. When he caught wind of me, he tried to play it off as him trying to keep the chryssalid population in check, but I knew better." She snorted, rummaging through her backpack to take stock of her haul for the day. "From then on I became his obsession. Started leaving me notes in random places, hoping I'd see them. He carved up a tree, scratched words into the side of a house, even used blood once."

"What did they say?" I asked, carefully dropping everything in my arms to the floor. Vee's tail slid over and wrapped around the rifle, which she dragged over to her waiting hands. She set to work on checking its moving parts and making sure it was in good working order.

"Nothing good, I'll tell you that much. I tried to off him at every chance but he was a slippery little shit. It was constant cat-and-mouse between us. I was on his trail again today, but ya'll got to him first. Only reason I didn't kill you both was I've never heard an alien and a human talking like you two were. So I took a chance. Things got weirder when she didn't immediately blow you away just to get to me. I've never seen an alien value human life. So I trust you," she said, flipping the palms of her hands up, down, then up again, "but I don't trust-trust you, you know? No offense, snake lady," she said offhandedly to Vee, who waved away her comment like it was a bothersome fly. "Vee, was it? Cute name. Killer shirt, by the way. Really vintage. The chrome letters scream eighties."

"She's the one you should be thanking. I nearly got myself killed."

"Water under the bridge now," Penny said, laying back onto the pile of bed sheets on the floor. "What I'm actually interested in is why a viper and human are traveling together, and where ya'll are going."

I walked her through a summary of my time spent during the invasion, as well as the brief history Vee and I shared together. She was mildly interested at the beginning, but by the end she was wide-eyed and leaning forward like a kid being told a tall tale, all the while the light outside grew a darker and darker shade of orange. After I was done, I wondered just how many more times I was going to have to go over the same story.

"No shit, a good old fashioned farm boy? And you had chickens? Man, I'd kill for a drumstick right now. I'm jealous. Or I would be, if you still had them, I mean. Sorry to hear about the house."

"Well, nothing good lasts forever, does it?" I said, trying to sound nonchalant about it. I must have failed miserably, because she only frowned at me before slapping me gently across the thigh. "Twenty years was a good run."

"Sounds like we've both been in the shit for a while in our own ways," she said with a warm laugh that almost hid the melancholy in her words. "We could probably argue for days about who had it worse. Up until about a year ago, I--"

She stopped suddenly, cocking her head as if to hold one ear higher. She squinted hard like she was straining, then her eyes took on a wild look that told me something was about to happen. I turned to Vee, who was also alert and staring as though she could see through walls. Her tongue was going a mile a minute. The lamp light was hurriedly switched off, our talking stopped, and the black-out curtain was drawn with just barely enough space left at the edge for me to peek out through the dusty white slats.

Before speaking to Argo I had never even heard of a chryssalid, let alone seen one, so I wasn't really sure what to expect. Both Vee and our new friend Penny kept quiet, making the appearance of these new aliens somewhat of a grim surprise for me. So when three of these things came skittering down the main street looking for the source of commotion earlier, my heart stopped and my mind fractured, caught someplace between dangerous curiosity and absolute, all-encompassing fear.

I stole a quick glance at Vee to make sure my eyes were not deceiving me, then Penny, who only nodded as though telling me to keep looking. My first thought was a spider, a crab, and a cockroach had a three-way, and then for some reason somebody gave the freakish offspring a spinal column for creepy measure. The skin was dark, and thanks to the fading light I was unable to tell if it was black or just a deep shade of purple, though it did throw off a weak shine which made me think it was more exoskeleton, like an actual insect. The pupil-less eyes glowed a ghastly, solid yellow color, the same as the various bioluminescent organs scattered across its back and at the top of its four double-jointed, sickle-ended legs, which were driven like railroad spikes into the ground to move. Long arms ended in grasping, fidgeting claws that seemed to have a mind of their own, endlessly squeezing and constricting around some imaginary piece of prey. I had no sense of scale until one of them wandered by an old car, and it was then I realized just how massive these things were; eight to ten feet tall easy when they straightened their backs, though they had a tendency to slouch forward as if constantly on the prowl. The jaws were grossly over-sized, looking like a beetle's mouth parts but extending further out from what I guess I would have called the face. Smaller movements were jerky, almost robot-like, and reminded me of a mantis, while more sudden, exaggerated twists of the neck or stretch of an arm evoked imagery of the twitchy but precise movements of birds.

Everything about a chryssalid was a mismatch of nature, a terrifying blend of ultra-predatory parts thrown into a blender by the universe just to see what the end result would be.

Eventually they grew bored and, finding nothing of interest, wandered back the way they had come. Further north, probably directly along the path Vee and I were supposed to take.

"It's always those same three. One of'em has an eye missing, one's got a chip in the front left leg-spike, and the other is missing the glowy bits. I call'em Pirate, Chip, and Spot. There used to be a fourth, but he bought it in one of my traps two weeks ago. In fact, there used to just be one, but ever since more and more people started moving around, they've been preying on passing refugees. I think once word got out chryssalids were patrolling the area, the flow of people stopped, so they haven't had a chance to grow their numbers again."

"How does eating people make more of them?" Penny scrunched her face up into a confused grimace, then shot a look towards Vee. "What? You said they prey on people and their numbers increase. How is that possible?"

"So all that crap you told me was real? You've really been on a farm for the entire invasion and occupation and have no idea the kind of John Carpenter-shit ADVENT's got out there, beyond what they've shown you on the ADVENT-controlled media?"

I held my hands out, hoping she would have expected more of me. "Why would I lie?"

"Lord, my sweet summer child -- chryssalids are the things nightmares have nightmares of. You ever seen the movie 'Alien'? You remember the chestburster scene, don't you?"

"I'll never forget it. I was eight years old; my parents were out for the night, the baby sitter had fallen asleep, and my brother and I were flipping through the television stations we shouldn't have been flipping through. Pretty sure we woke up the neighborhood with how loud we were screaming. I had nightmares for weeks," I said, slowly realizing where this question was leading. "Hold on, don't tell me--"

"Bingo. They kill you, slam an egg or a mini-chryssalid or whatever down the throat of your lifeless corpse, and a little while later a brand new chryssalid grows inside of you until the body's blown apart -- that's after they use it to get around like some kind of zombie. Freaky shit, dude. I'd sooner brain myself than let that happen to me. They don't use bodies they haven't killed themselves. They're not what I'd call bright, though; I've known house cats more cunning than them. Once they spot you, they just run right at you."

"Older blood line," Vee added. "Newer ones less gruesome and only slightly smarter."

Just to be sure, I looked out the window, down the street where that man had died. Despite Penny's explanation, the fear in me half-expected him to be up and about, moaning and shambling around on the hunt for flesh. Instead I still saw the little bare spot in the tall grass where his body kept the plants pressed flat to the ground, looking not unlike the mouth of an endless pit in the green earth.

Penny scooted up beside me and shoved me over a bit to look out the window, too. When she saw things were all clear, she fully closed the blinds and the black-out curtain, then switched on the electric lamp. I rooted around in my bag for a piece of a c-stick while she went digging through a pile of junk in the far corner, barely organized into stacks of varying heights, the tallest of which was probably about knee high. When she turned back around, she had a very familiar little white box in her hands that I hadn't seen since I was a kid.

"No way," I stammered, looking on as she flashed a knowing smile. From a side pocket of her backpack, she found a pair of earbuds colored the same bright white, and plugged them into the bottom.

"I know, right? You wouldn't believe the shit I find in old safes. You'd think money, jewelry, gold, guns, but nope. Most of what I find are trinkets -- sentimental and cultural shit, you know? This thing," she said, pointing at iPod, "came from a safe filled to the brim with vacuum-sealed tracks and records, and books to boot. I think the person had a daughter, too, because I found a 2014 issue of Cosmopolitan mixed in. I guess she thought it would be important later; how to find boys in a post-apocalyptic, alien-governed wasteland or some shit. The rest of it was classics and some old magazines. National Geographics, The Odyssey and The Iliad, Beowulf, things like that. It's all over there in that pile if you feel like a good read."

Vee perked up and speedily slithered over to the books and magazines stacked atop one another in the corner. She was oddly careful with them, exploring any of interest by slowly lifting the cover and seeing if it tore or broke the binding. In a few moments she had dived right in, spreading out a few magazines before deciding on a book that looked about as thick as her arm; I couldn't see the title, but I could tell by how quickly Vee's eyes were shifting left to right that she was a hell of a speed reader.

"How have you been keeping it charged?" I said, turning back to Penny. She was already lost in whatever music was going through her head. She took an earbud out when I waved for her attention, and I repeated myself.

"A whole lot of luck, prayer, and some ingenuity," she said, shuffling herself over to sit beside me. She slid her finger across the trackwheel and the cursor shifted perfectly on the screen, perfectly in sync with her movements. If not for the odd scuff mark across the housing, it would have looked brand new. The screen was bright and the text legible, and each button press responded without a moment's hesitation -- I could still hear the clicking each time. She scrolled down to a familiar band that I hadn't heard from in close to fifteen years, pressed an earbud into my right ear, and hit play. When I heard what sounded like a church bell quickly followed by a raging guitar and pounding drums, I felt tears welling up in my eyes for reasons both beyond explanation and beyond needing explanation.

"Holy shit," I barely whispered, wiping my eyes as I found myself smiling just as widely as Penny. She started bobbing her head and mouthing the lyrics as they began, silently singing along as she immersed herself in the music, her eyes lazily closing as if in a trance.

"I figured you like this one," she said, "if that Metallica shirt Vee's wearing was yours."

"My brother's, actually, but metal kind of ran through the family thanks to dad. We saw them on tour, you know," I said, feeling a brag coming on as her mouth dropped. "The Vacation Tour, New York, Yankee Stadium, 2011."

Penny viciously punched me in the shoulder, though her continued excitement told me she didn't care how hard she had hit me or she didn't know. "Fuck yes, dude! I was there, too! I was in the front middle section with my mom! We were so short, we couldn't see over anybody in front of us, but people kept on pushing us to the front so we could see better -- I was crying by the end of the night, that people could be so nice to complete strangers."

"Vee, come take a listen to this," I said. "This is the band whose shirt you're wearing." She slid over beside me, that Cosmopolitan issue rolled up in her hands, but before I could give her my earbud, Penny hurriedly gave her own up and backed away. Vee held it against the side of her head and listened intently, her eyes nearly taking on that trademark focus that made me think she was trying to track something. A few moments later and I heard a soft thumping behind me; her tail was rhythmically hitting the floor and had a good chuckle to myself. I'd always heard music was a universal language, but I don't think whoever had said that had aliens in mind when they did.

"I like the percussion," Vee said, her tongue curiously flickering. Even among aliens, chicks dig the drummer. I'll never understand.

Vee listened to the end of the song, nodded thoughtfully, and handed the earbud back to Penny. She refused it and instead motioned for me to hang onto it for the time being. I wasn't going to argue. Songs I hadn't heard in decades, songs that stirred up even more memories I hadn't thought of in what felt like lifetimes. I just laid back and closed my eyes, letting the track play on and on. When the third song had ended I swept my thumb across the trackwheel, not caring where the cursor ended up. Aerosmith, Tupac, The Beatles, even what sounded like some kind of 1920s swing -- whoever had owned this thing must have thought themselves humanity's keeper of music or something; they had every genre and era imaginable.  Some of it I loved, some of it I hated, but I listened anyway, feeling each artists' voice calling out to me like a friend I haven't seen in ages, back from some foreign land that seemed so far away that it may as well have been imaginary.

I remembered my dad working from home one Saturday afternoon as he blared Megadeth through the speakers, typing away so hard I thought he was going to break the keyboard. I remembered mom making dinner for us while practically shouting Heart's 'Barracuda', pausing only to take a taste of the spaghetti sauce she was making, then immediately going back to swinging her hips and singing mildly off-key. I vividly recalled Adam and I getting into an argument that ended with our parents having to pry us apart, and him retreating into his room to play Mastodon so loud the entire house shook, and dad had to nearly bust his door down to get him to lower the volume.

Eventually I became worried that Penny would get upset if i drained the battery too much. Though my back felt stuck to the floor, with a great amount of effort and in spite of the aching protests my body gave, I sat up again and turned the iPod off. I took out the earbuds, realizing as I wiped them down with my shirt that my hands were shaking. It took a few jittery seconds to realize that despite my fatigue, I still had adrenaline surging through my veins, no doubt on account of my two near-death experiences earlier in the day, but I wonder if the music also had some hand in energizing me.

"You looked pretty comfortable," Penny said. I looked up and saw her reading a book while half-buried in her pile of blankets and bed sheets. Her muddy brown hunter's jacket was gone, leaving just a dirty white tank-top that still seemed to pop against her dark skin, but marred by sweat stains and some ragged holes around the neckline. Her ponytail was gone and straight black hair fell just a little bit past her shoulders.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to hog it."

"Don't sweat it. I've listened to it so much I've memorized almost every song. It's nice to share it with someone else that appreciates it." She showed a wide smile, but it disappeared just as fast. She sighed, closed her book -- something called 'The Knight's Ward' -- and climbed out of her pile of bedding to sit cross-legged in front of me. Her tank-top pretty much ended just above her bellybutton, and below her toned abs she wore a pair of tight boxer briefs. "I have an enormous favor to ask of you."

"Hit me."

"I haven't run into a friendly face for what feels like forever, and given that you and your reptilian pal haven't tried any shit with me, you two are about the friendliest I've seen in a long while."

"Okay."

She paused, perhaps waiting for me to say more but I had nothing else. "I saw the map you guys are using, and I know which direction you guys are going," she said, scooting a bit closer to me. "The bugs you saw visit regularly and have been causing me a ton of issues for a while now, not to mention the fact there used to be just one, so they've killed a few other people as well. I've tracked them before, and I know what nasty little dive they call home; it's an old ADVENT building just barely out of your way, further north. I never had the nerve nor the ordnance to do it on my own, but with three of us I think there's a good shot. We could kill the three of them, make it safe for me to scavenge as I like, and make it safe for other people to use this place as a corridor to get to the refugee centers further east. I'm not going to lie to your face and say that's my primary concern, but I'll lay it out all the same."

The thought of fighting those things made my skin crawl, but leaving them to kill more people when I had the chance to put them down felt worse. Regardless, it wasn't a decision I could make on my own. "Vee, what do you say?" I spun around when I heard no reply and saw it was just me and Penny in the room.

"She asked where she could sleep and left while you were listening to music. She's in the second room down the hall. I can't stop my hair from standing on end, thinking about having a big snake covering my six, but she used to be one of their soldiers. It's clear she'd be a big help, and I won't do it without her. I'd be very appreciative."

"I'd have to talk it over with her. My gut response is to say yes, but the buck stops with her."

"No, no, I understand," Penny said, clasping her hands together. "I'll continue making do if she says no, but who knows when I'd get another opportunity like this, you know? Maybe talk it over with her in the morning, feel her out."

"I can talk now. Why wait?"

"It's kind of late, Liam," she said, slowly crawling back to her makeshift bed, keeping an eye on me for some reason as she did. "You can just -- I don't want you to wake her, I mean. The morning's fine. I've got space here, if you're ready to hit the hay." She patted the empty spot in the mountain of sheets next to her, and I had to admit it did look very inviting. There was a lot more material there than my sleeping bag could ever offer, that was for sure. But sleeping without Vee in arm's reach hit me oddly, like it was a stupid thing to do in the wilds. She's saved my life twice now -- thrice, technically, counting the tripwire even if it wasn't lethal. I was more comfortable around her than I was another human.

"That's fine. I'll go see if she's awake. If not, I'll call it a day in there."

"Oh," Penny said, something like confusion spreading across her features. I thought I was speaking clearly enough so I wasn't sure what her issue was, but I wasn't going to press her. "Oh, okay. Yeah, that's cool. I guess -- uh, sleep tight, then, I guess."

"You too," I said, getting to my feet. She pulled the covers up to her neck, and beneath them I could see the outline of her body curling into a fetal position. "See you in the morning."

She reached over to turn off the electric lamp, but left it on as I made my way out into the hall, and she only turned it off when she heard me fumbling with the doorknob of the second room on the right. Inside was nearly pitch black; a window with a myriad of cracks spider-webbing across its surface let a little bit of moonlight through, and I was able to see the big lump on blankets in the corner by the one cracked window, ever so slowly rising and falling. As quietly as I could, I placed my backpack on the floor and began to unfurl my sleeping bag. I think I may have hit Vee's tail as I did, because she shifted slightly. I took that as my opportunity.

"You awake, Vee?"

"You should stay with her," she quickly said, as though she'd been awake the entire time. "Safe here. Safer."

"What? No. Why?" I asked, having a feeling I already knew the answer. I decided to save her the trouble. "Tired of babysitting me, huh?"

"No," Vee said. I heard her move more, heard the shuffling of fabric, and in the dark saw her shadow loom threateningly in the corner. "I want you to be safe. Path to City 31 will be more difficult. I would do all I could, but I cannot guarantee your safety. Not anymore than I could mine."

"Well, unless you're going to force me somehow, I'm not staying. There's nothing here; Penny does well for herself but who knows if there's enough around for two people to scavenge and live off of. Scavenging isn't really my style, anyway. Besides, things aren't so safe here with those chryssalids running around. Speaking of which, Penny says we can help solve that problem. She knows where they live, and she says the three of us could kill them."

"No."

"She says it's barely a stone's throw out of our way, we could--"

"No."

"Listen to me, damn it! Please. I mean, god's sake, weren't you just shouting at me a while ago about all this shit in your head? Skills and know-how that you never asked for nor wanted, but you got it shoved into you anyway, and there's no way you're ever going to get it out. You don't have to be a soldier, but the fact is you'll always know how to be a soldier, and you'll be good at it for as long as you live, right? This isn't -- it's different, okay? You're not doing the Elder's work for them. Whatever garbage they put in your head, you'd be using it now to help people. We kill these things, and Penny can roam as she pleases, and other people can waltz through here without being turned inside out by a fucking bug. If I had that opportunity, I'd kick myself for running away from it. It's the right thing to do. We don't do this, maybe Penny dies a week from now. Maybe later. Maybe ten more people die later. We can make sure it doesn't happen, and we'd be no worse off on our way to the city."

She was silent for a while, then slithered out from her blankets to look out the window. She craned her neck around, and the moonlight hit one of her blood-red eyes just right, making it almost glow. "Important to you."

"Very," I said, wishing I could say more but my thoughts eluded me, making it impossible to put them into words.

She sighed and shook her head, scanning the floor as if to look at anything except me. When she finally was able to spare me a passing glance, it was as she retreated back into her blankets. "Talk in the morning. Rest now."

The buck stopped with Vee, but never would she say I didn't at least try to convince her. Though as I settled into my sleeping bag for the night, anxiety crept into my mind as part of me began to twist Vee's suggestion into something a little more sinister than she had intended. Still, it kept nagging at me, and I decided to set the record straight.

"You better not leave me during the night, or I'll find you and -- and I'll kick your ass. Or tail. Whatever."

I could see her shake slightly with laughter, then she spun her coiled body around so that her head poked out of the blankets to face me. "Chill, would you?"

-Chapter 11-

The morning seemed standard, as far as things went. Vee and I awoke at almost the same time. I wondered if she always woke before me and just pretended to sleep until I was up, or maybe she and I had somehow synced with each other or something else that made just as little sense. We shared a moment of silence, each of us having our breakfast portion of c-stick as the floor and wall opposite of the window grew densely dappled by dawn's encroaching sunlight, further distorted by the faint shadows cast by the jagged cracks and edges of the broken glass. It was a heavy sort of silence. I imagined Vee knew exactly where my mind was at, and maybe by staying silent she thought I might have forgotten about helping Penny. My silence, however, was all the reminder she needed; the ball was still in her court, and it was her that had to make a decision -- not me. Though just to make sure we were on the same page, I gave her a knowing glare as she packed up her blankets and some of the gear we had taken from yesterday's close encounter.

"Speak with Penny," Vee said, making her way to the door. I quickly packed my sleeping bag and followed close behind her. For some reason I shut the door behind me, but the rusty knob fell off in my hand. Old habits, I supposed. Out in the main hallway, we found the master bedroom door closed -- mostly, anyway, were it not for how it oddly rested on its hinges. Vee rapped twice quickly, then again a moment later when we couldn't hear any immediate commotion inside. We were about to just let ourselves in, but the doorknob jumped away from Vee's hand as Penny pulled it open from the other side.

"Liam! Hey, what's--" She swept her bangs from her eyes and frowned as her gaze climbed higher and higher until she found herself staring directly into Vee's crimson eyes. "Oh. Vee," she said, leaning around to see me behind her. "There you are. Come on in."

Penny closed the door behind us. Again, I wasn't sure why; it wasn't like there was anybody else in the house to intrude upon us. She was mostly dressed, her tanktop still visible beneath her hunter's jacket, itself zipped only partway up and the arms hanging from her sides, like a jumpsuit waiting to be crawled into. Curiously, she still had that smudge of grease or something on her forehead, though it was harder to see than before. When she caught me staring, she reached up and wiped the rest of it off, checking the back of her hand to see what it was. She flashed a mischievous little grin for a moment afterwards, but it disappeared just as quickly.

"So?" Penny said, goading one of us into responding, her arms outstretched as if waiting for an embrace, "did you talk about anything interesting? Anything you might want to fill me in on?"

I nodded, but Vee jumped in before I got a single word out. "Chryssalids should be avoided at all costs. Hunting one is dangerous. Hunting three is stupid. I am one soldier, you are two civilians. Unless you have a good plan, we walk."

"First of all," Penny said, drawing a short knife from her pocket and swinging it open, "there's two soldiers here; I did some time in Iraq before the invasion, and the assholes I fought over there were a hell of a lot smarter than these bugs. Second," she said, scratching a number of lines into the wall with her blade, "I do have a plan and it is incredibly simple."

She took a few moments to properly illustrate her plan of attack; she carved a square into the soft, rotting wood, then scratched out a rough circle all the way around it. She then drew two straight lines far off to the right before stepping back to allow Vee and myself a better look. "Check this out. The old ADVENT building they shelter in is in the middle of an enormous field; I guess ADVENT liked long sight lines for added security. Every night at about six or seven, the three of them always return to the building. I don't know why. Anything you can guess?" she asked, gesturing to Vee.

Vee shook her head. "Uncertain. Residual programming. Instincts. Doesn't matter."

"Sure doesn't. What I propose is we wait a ways off from the building, and begin our approach at about seven, so we should get there somewhere near half-past. This time of year, the sun's going down around that time but the engagement shouldn't take more than a minute, so we'll still have light while we shoot. All we do is draw attention to ourselves, they come running out, and we nail all three. There's about three hundred yards between the building and the edge of the field, with zero obstructions; no trees, no rocks, no fences -- nothing, and the grass isn't any taller than my ankles. Even as fast as they move, there's no way they clear that gap before three shooters take them down."

Vee's silence was encouraging. If she wasn't pointing out flaws, chances were she didn't see any. Penny must have felt the same, because she took another step back and spread her arms out. "It's good, right? Nothing to it. Speak now or forever hold your peace."

While Penny still waited for some approval with an uneasy smile, Vee shrugged off her backpack and fished the datapad from its depths. She turned it on, brought up the map, and then handed it to Penny. "Where?" Her impassive glare worsened into a full-on scowl as Penny kept dragging the map further and further north, before finally settling on a grid square that seemed a little further off our path than what I had been led to believe. By my estimate and taking into account how often we stopped or how slow we went, it was probably three or five days away, another another day westward. Certainly not within spitting distance.

"Too far," Vee said, looking over the path Penny had drawn. "Cannot help you."

"Ah-hah, see, I knew you were going to say that. I told Liam it was a hop, skip, and a jump away, and I wasn't lying. Follow me," she said with a bright white smile, "I've got something you'll want to see."

She slipped her arms into the sleeves of her jacket but left it zipped up halfway, then excitedly pushed past us both while offering only a cursory apology. By the time we spun around, the door had been flung open and Penny was already marching down the stairs like a kid on Christmas morning. As we descended after her, Vee gave me a questioning sort of glare, to which my only response was a frown and a shrug. On the ground floor, Penny was already out of sight and all we had to guide us were thumping footsteps and what sounded like a tarp being thrown back. Vee brushed past an empty spiderweb and I followed her into what looked like an adjoined garage, where Penny proudly stood beside what must have been her most prized possession.

"Ta-da! What was a few days walk for you is now hours!"

It was the both the sleekest and most cumbersome looking thing I'd ever seen -- like somebody had tried to make a plain trapezoid aerodynamic and succeeded only towards the front of the vehicle and had given up entirely by the time they had gotten to the rear. The result was what I assumed to be a car with a low, mean-looking face that wouldn't look out of place on a sports car, but the back end of it was kind of blocky, with curves ostensibly meant to hide the rougher edges of the car as a whole, and the dark windows all seemed like they were connected into a single piece. It was like a mash-up of 1980s futurism and boxy, modern day aesthetics, slapped in a dark red coat of paint with a single silver stripe travelling down the side.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and say this thing is a car, right? Because of the wheels."

"No roads," Vee hissed, her hood flaring just a little larger. "Absolutely not."

Penny was not discouraged by Vee's change in demeanor, circling around the vehicle like a saleswoman trying to plead her case. "You've got good reason to avoid roads, but you've got nothing to worry about around here. I drive this thing once a week while scavenging and I haven't had anything close to what you'd call a hostile encounter. Driving in the wilds is like swimming in the ocean: yeah, it's full of dangerous critters but it's so big the chances of running into any of them is slim to nil. There are no patrols or resistance or refugee camps along the way. I would know -- how else do you think I found where our three little bugs bed for the night? And besides, check this out."

After what was surely a practiced slide across the short hood of the car, Penny slipped her hand into the handle of the driver's side door and popped it open in one smooth motion. A hand dove into one of her pockets and she produced a jingling set of keys, dangling them in the air like she was taunting us with them. The keys disappeared into the driver's dash and the car purred once like a big cat, then went deathly, disappointingly silent. My enthusiasm evaporated in record time.

"I think your baby just died, Penny."

"No!" She laughed, jumping out of the car and bounding over to punch me in the shoulder. "That's how it runs! Fully electric and damn near whisper-quiet. It's sure no sight for sore eyes but driving past, all you can hear is the grit beneath the tires. Even if somebody's ten feet from the road they wouldn't hear us coming or going. I'm the last one you'll hear singing ADVENT's praises but they definitely had the right idea when the forced this design on every automaker."

"Where did you even find it?" I asked under Vee's worsening glare; I supposed she figured my continued curiosity for an endorsement. I couldn't say she was wrong, but neither was she totally right.

"On the road three months ago. Abandoned, driver's side door open, keys in the ignition, and what must've been a gallon of ADVENT blood in the footwell. I sat and watched it for hours and nobody came. Finder's keepers. I've tried keeping it in good shape but I don't know much about electric cars, so it's been a learning process. The battery's charge lasts forever, but sometimes the power will cut out and back on -- don't know yet what's doing it. Besides that..."

She went on and on, detailing every little nook and cranny and dent, maybe thinking that her total knowledge of the car would sway Vee into agreeing. It was apparent her mind had remained unchanged, however. Her hood was just as flared as the moment she set eyes on the car, and her crossed arms and meaner-than-normal scowl said all she meant for them to say. Her eyes could have screamed all on their own, even for how narrow they were at the moment.

Vee leaned back on one of her coils and as Penny continued to ramble and whispered, "This is a bad idea."

"She knows the area," I meekly offered. I think Penny had a strong idea what was happening because while she kept talking to keep up her inattentive appearance, her voice was just a little lower than before. "Argo said secure transport when possible. We could shave days off our hike and be in in Virginia by tonight, and that's on top of making sure these things don't kill more people and reproduce. There's three now; what if there's four tomorrow? Ten in a week?"

"Right thing to do," Vee said with something close to a growl. I got the sense she wasn't actually agreeing with me but only offering up the next sentence she was certain would come out of my mouth. "You decide."

With that simple utterance all of the responsibility fell on me. Did she think I would run from it? Was she actually letting me decide or did she think I would say no? The thought shamefully crossed my mind for just a moment. It was important to me, but what if something happened to Vee? To me or to Penny? The weight of those potential failures would rest squarely on my shoulders. It was a thought I'd never considered -- purposefully taking the others' lives in my own hands, and being accountable for the outcome, good or bad. That was if I survived, but the possibility of death wasn't so overpowering after having dodged the reaper three times now. Maybe the adrenaline that coursed through me after merely thinking about it dulled its power over me, but I figured for as easily I could have been killed recently, I could maybe die a hundred times more on the way to City 31. What if it was for a cause? Would that be so bad?

Bad line of thought.

Penny stood frozen, her hands clasped in front of her chest and her eyes darting between myself and Vee. She still wore the same smile she'd had on since she started talking, though now it was smaller, subdued. She wasn't so sure herself which way things could go.

"We'll do it."

Penny was milliseconds from exploding and no sooner had her feet left the ground to jump for joy, Vee quickly slid between us.

"Wait," she hissed at Penny before slowly turning back to stare me down with every little bit of menace she could muster -- which was an absolute ton, mind. Her crimson eyes narrowed to slits, her pupils contracted to razor-thin lines, and she loomed taller and taller with every passing moment while she circled around me like a shark. That natural scowl she wore clearly intensified with such white-hot rage I swore I could feel heat coming off of her, until she seemingly was unable to contain it and everything inside of her burst forth in the blink of an eye with such fury that I nearly stumbled backwards over my feet; an endless seam stretched all the way across her face as her jaw fell low to reveal a gaping maw that seemed able to effortlessly envelop my head, and two fangs unfolded like switchblades, trailing a viscous line of saliva that was flung outward by the ghastliest, most spine-chilling mix of screaming and hissing that I had never known she was even capable of. My ears rang and every instinct in me told me to run as fast as my feet would carry me. I was only vaguely aware of Penny shouting, her voice dulled as if I was underwater, or maybe that was the blood rushing through my head at a hundred miles per hour.

"God's sake, what -- what the hell, Vee! I'm sorry! You told me to make a call and I did!"

"Chill," she quietly added to the end of her display. Her hood shrunk back to normal size and as her jaw came back up, it was like two halves of her face were being joined again into one. Her demeanor instantly changed back to the person I knew, eyes wide and inquisitive and her body quickly retreating from my personal space. "Back at the house. You froze up once after inviting me in. Has not happened again. It cannot happen again. Wanted to be sure."

"And you couldn't have thought of a better way without deafening me and spraying me with spittle?"

"Liam, listen carefully," she said, placing a hand on each of my shoulders and lowering herself to my level. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Penny taken aback by the gesture. It seemed unusually intimate, but some part of me had to admit that it felt...nice. The respect it took for the smarter, stronger, deadlier alien to treat me like an equal -- it was nice after all my time spent alone. "Chryssalids do not think. They are not like humans. They are not like me. They are mindlessly driven. You cannot convince them, talk to them, help them. Only kill them. They will not hesitate, and I need to know if you will."

I tried to swallow back the anxiety that dried my mouth. "You're saying they're like animals?" She nodded. "I'll be fine. You can trust me."

Vee nodded slowly at first, then faster as her confidence in my answer grew. She turned to Penny. "When will we leave?"

Penny was still a little slack-jawed, and I couldn't tell if it was in awe of Vee's hidden ferocity or because of how close Vee had been to me just moments before. She subtly shook her head to clear her mind and slid her left sleeve up to reveal a watch on her wrist, its face on her palm side. "We can take interstate 81 almost all the way there. We'll off-road the last twenty miles or so; it's slow-going, but not too rough even for a car unsuited for it. I'd say four hours is a good estimate, so we should leave between two and three, which means we've got time to kill."

"Good. You will assist me. Both of you, follow me."

With half the day to go before we would leave, it left a lot of time for something that I never thought I would have ever experienced: drills. Vee and Penny spent every minute teaching me how to maintain weaponry, how to clear jams, how to smoothly operate a weapon as if I was comfortable with it. I was more than familiar with my shotgun given how long I had owned it, but even still I was given new pointers. My stance was off; I leaned too far back while shouldering it, something that Penny immediately set to work on correcting. Vee ran me through proper disassembly and care of everything, including the rifle and pistol we had scavenged from Penny's former nemesis. By the time we were ready to go, I was far from the soldier they both used to be, but I had shown enough improvement to warrant a few pats on the back. I also figured I had done moderately well since Vee was not demanding we cancel the plan, so that was good. Penny had her three shooters after all.

The car purred on start-up and everything after that was total silence. The only other way I was able to tell it was even on was a soft humming that I could hear while sitting in the front passenger seat. The interior was sort of stark and utilitarian with comforting accents, though nothing else. The dash was flat and used only for displaying gauges and read-outs, the center console was gone since there was no shifter, and everything seemed like it was just where it was supposed to be. It felt as though I could tell the car was designed by aliens, like they knew what a car was and how it should work and that was all they had set out to do. There was no flair or stylistic design. The only thing that stood out were a few large strips of leather that covered most of the grey upholstery seats, reaching up the back and onto the headrests.

"Very cramped," Vee said, squeezing herself into the back while Penny took the driver's seat. She took up an entire seat meant for three and then some, with the rest of her tail spilling out onto the floor to fill up the footwells. She leaned against the far door and window while the tip of her tail anxiously twitched underneath my seat, and she shot me a look. "Don't recline."`

"And away we go," Penny said, fingering the paddle shifter on the wheel. The car smoothly slid backwards out the open garage, spinning its wheels in vain every few moments as the tall grass past the concrete floor wasn't much for traction. "It always hitches on the grass. Once we clear the neighborhood, it's all smooth sailing. Mostly." She struggled getting the car to move for a minute longer before it caught on something, and the car lurched forward. The grass and flowers gave way after a little while and asphalt was once again visible near the neighborhood entrance. She hung a left and we were immediately thrust into the remains of the old world.

It felt like a Sunday drive through a wasteland. Though much of it was mildly overtaken by nature, the vestiges of the old world were still fairly obvious even to somebody like me, who hadn't taken part in civilization for twenty years. We passed a school within just a few miles, recognizable by the rundown sign at the entrance with its decaying letters proclaiming all classes and after-school events were cancelled; the parking lot was lined by school buses with broken windows and flat tires. Just off the main thoroughfare was a small shopping complex, the parking lot absolutely littered with cars, some of which sat on their sides or in various pieces. I began to wonder just how much time, if any, this little town had to evacuate. Just down the road, a car seemingly cut clean in half answered that question pretty quick. It sat at a stop sign just before the interstate, everything in front was simply gone, like it had never even existed at all. As we passed, I could see the damage was so clean that the engine block was exposed just like a cross-section. A skeleton sat in the driver's seat, it's skull resting against the steering wheel.

The interstate was curiously cleaner compared to the light commercial and residential we had just come out of. The road itself was still a little messy and lousy with potholes and vines reaching from one side to the other, but most of the vehicles had been pushed aside, leaving the center of the road largely open for a large truck or something. It was like someone had come through and purposefully moved everything.

"What's on your mind?" I looked over to see Penny watching me, though she kept her eyes trained mostly on the road.

"It looks like something cleared the road."

"ADVENT was always moving supplies and personnel, but it ramped up considerably when the resistance and XCOM started making more of a fuss. They used air, trains, and trucks to move things; they'd use big plows to clear the roads for convoys through the wilds." Only after she said that did I realize much of the damage on each vehicle looked pretty consistent. Some of them looked folded like they'd been hit dead on by the tip of the plow, whereas others just had deep gouges where they'd scraped alongside of it. I could even see some shallow trenches every few miles, presumably where the plows had dug too deeply into the road.

As the long drive wore on, I found boredom setting in hard. At first I tried to count cars, but quickly found that was putting me to sleep. I glanced at the rear view mirror and saw Vee hunkered down pretty low, such that only her eyes were above the door to continually peek out the window. She was abnormally still, only her eyes moving, darting this way and that as she scanned the outside for threats. When she saw me looking she offered a tight little smile, but that only made me worry more. As usual, silence was getting the best of me, and I thought breaking it would do some good.

"You said you were a soldier, Penny?"

"Hell yeah, man. 1st Infantry Division -- The Big Red One, just like my dad."

"Runs in the family, huh?"

"Oh no, not at all. Dad was the first. He signed up literally the day after September 11th. He died in Fallujah in 2004 when I was just fourteen. Things were not easy at home after that. I joined up for the wrong reasons, but then again -- who doesn't, you know?"

"Wrong reasons?"

"Mom was running herself ragged to take care of me. She was working two jobs and put her own classes on hold just to keep the home and car above water, and to keep putting food on the table every day. It -- it hurt me a lot to see that. She looked like she'd aged ten years in half that time. The moment I turned eighteen, I enlisted just to take the pressure off her. Holy shit, you'd never believe a person was capable of the level of screaming and shouting she was the day I broke the news. All the garbage you said you got into with your brother before he left? Multiply that by a thousand. Afterwards I don't think she could bear to speak to me for a whole week. She got over it eventually. Not like she had a choice. I didn't get over it for a while longer, though. You got any idea how absolutely fucking weird it is to still be fighting for the same patch of dirt your dad died for? Sometimes I still think I never got over it. "

"What did you do? In the Army, I mean."

"I was a mechanic -- took care of whatever vehicles my guys used. Sometimes on base, sometimes outside the wire --"

"What does that mean?"

"Outside the base. Sometimes a vehicle would break down or hit an IED or something and it'd be dead in the water. We go out, fix it in the field or tow it back to base. That was always when I saw combat. Sometimes a convoy would get hit, and the bad guys would wait for the back-up to arrive to detonate a second IED, and on top of that they'd engage with small-arms fire. It was always ambushes, hit-and-runs -- repair jobs in the middle of an urban center were the worst. Lots of places to hide and strike from, lots of dark corners for traps," she said, frowning. "That's why I'm not worried about these bugs. They look scary, but they're dumb as bricks."

I laughed. "I wonder if that's why ADVENT lost. Maybe they thought humans were dumb as bricks and never took the resistance seriously."

"I don't doubt that one bit," Penny said with a grin, taking a moment to check the rear view. "How about you, Vee? Any insights?"

Vee was silent for just a moment, still facing the window but with her eyes downcast. "Uncertain. Troopers were not made aware of overall strategy or sentiment. We took the resistance very seriously. Like you said -- urban centers the worst. People on outskirts of trade zones very sympathetic to resistance. Ambushes common in the closing weeks of the war, improvised explosive attacks near daily occurrence."

Penny burst out laughing, and I couldn't tell why but it felt in very poor taste. So did Vee, who tore her gaze from the window and was burning holes into the back of Penny's headrest with a mean glare. "I don't fucking believe it," she said, still coming down from her fit. "Me and the giant snake lady got something in common. I never would've guessed."

Vee's venomous look softened, and for the rest of the car trip she and Penny discussed various rebellions and insurrections throughout human history, from peasant revolts of ancient times to more recent conflicts like in Chechnya and Syria. Whenever Penny found herself out of her depth, Vee would steer the conversation in such a way that would allow Penny to relate it to her time in Iraq. It was unnerving for reasons I didn't quite understand, that an alien was so well-versed in Earth's history. Had they been watching us spill each other's blood since our infancy over issues that seemed quaint or unimportant to their greater intellect? Or did they merely imbue their soldiers with knowledge of past conflicts to give them a better understanding of human tactics and strategies?

Regardless of whichever war or rebellion happened to be the topic of the moment, I kept quiet. I had no experience practical or academic and surely there was nothing I could offer to either of them that would be of any importance. Listening to the two of them talk, there seemed to be a gulf between the two. I think Penny was well aware that any experience Vee spoke of came from a lifetime of fighting humans, and so she not-so-subtly attempted to keep her voice low and impassive. This of course was something Vee easily picked up on, as good as she was at reading people, which is why I think she kept trying to relate everything to Penny, so she wouldn't have to talk about her own combat experience under the Elder's control. It was an uncomfortable conversational seesaw where both people seemed to want off, but stayed on just to appear courteous to their partner.

Once we went off the road into some short grass, they both quieted down. We were close, and as the car slowly weaved through a sparse forest of thin short trees I found my mouth dry and my heart beating a little harder and feeling like it sat a little higher. We rolled to a stop, and despite what was ahead, my immediate thought upon exiting the car was how much I wanted to just stay in there for the air conditioning alone; though the sun was on its way down, the humidity was downright oppressive. I felt as if I'd just gotten out of a swimming pool.

"Make sure your shit's in order," Penny grumbled, grabbing our bags from the trunk and also coming up with three green shells, "and take these 12-gauge slugs; they're from my own stash. They say they're good to a little over 200 yards, but I'd save them for about half that." Vee took the rifle and handed off the shotgun to me so I could reload it with the slugs first up in the chamber. I made sure the safety was on while the both of them poured over their own weapons. Vee spied me out of the corner of her eye, carefully watching her hands skillfully manipulating the rifle as if she'd always known how to use it.

"No hesitation," she said. I nodded, and we began our trek through the forest. As usual, the silence did nothing for my nerves and I hoped neither of them would be opposed if I decided to talk.

"So, Penny," I started, and she spared me a glance with nothing on her face resembling disapproval, so I continued. "If you were in the Army, did you fight during the invasion?"

"Oh, no, I was out by then. Went back to live with mom while taking some online classes when the invasion started. They tried to call me up for emergency service, and I would've gladly put the uniform back on, but mom literally barricaded me in the bathroom. She wouldn't open it to feed me or anything. Just sat by the door listening to the radio for four days. In that time, Germany got the shit kicked out of it. Four fucking days is all it took, and then they moved onto France and England, and that's while they were already working outward from the Midwest of the US of A, like they were eating us from the inside out." She stopped, whipping her head around to some sound she thought she had heard. Vee and I heard nothing; maybe Penny's nerves were getting to her too. "That's when I knew mom had made the right call. We panicked, didn't know where to go or what to do, so we just stayed put and waited for the end to come. We got real lucky, though -- most of the population centers along the East Coast were occupied instead of being destroyed, so that's where mom and I stayed until a year ago. It used to be called Richmond, but I think it got renamed to City 16."

"What happened a year ago?"

"The resistance happened," she said, her voice getting just a little quieter. Up ahead through the branches and bushes I could see the edge of the forest and the beginning of the clearing. "People disappeared all the time. We were told they had moved or been transferred to another city but everybody knew better. Mom must have made the clearly avoidable mistake of talking to somebody's uncle's daughter's husband's cousin's wife or something just as stupid, and that person happened to be a resistance member. I came home from pencil-pushing one day and she was gone. No note, no talk from an ADVENT rep -- nothing. I waited for a week before I decided she wasn't coming back and that I was probably next on their shit-list, so I made myself scarce." She stopped at the treeline, fishing out a pair of binoculars from her jacket and handing them to me. "Focus up now. Take a look."

Off in the distance a large, shadowy block of a building loomed. I brought the binoculars to my eyes; save for a ragged hole that looked big enough to fit a small vehicle, it was a totally featureless building. Dark grey bordering on black, completely smooth so I didn't think it was made of bricks or wood or anything, and one section was dimly lit by a 4-piece floodlight, three bulbs of which flickered intermittently and were inactive more often than not. The right side of the building had what looked like the wreckage of another floodlight, twisted and bent though still in a single piece. I gave the binoculars to Vee, who used one eye to peer through a single side before giving them back to Penny.

"Now what?"

"We wait for a moment," Penny said, taking a knee to steady herself as she intently stared down the binoculars at the structure. "I don't know why -- like Vee said, maybe it's residual programming -- but they like to do laps around the building's interior. That hole you saw, looks like somebody blew up that section to get inside? They'll normally pass by it every ten minutes or so. If we see all three, the plan's a go."

 They must have skittered by like clockwork because not five minutes later she was counting them off. "One, two...that's three. Pirate, Chip, and Spot are all home. I blow this whistle, they come running out to say hello, and we say hello back. Liam, kneel here -- back leg closer in or you'll fall over -- and wait for me to tell you to fire. Vee and I will pepper them as they close the gap and you'll start shooting once they get near. You got it?"

"I got it."

"Good. How about you, Vee?"

"Ready."

"All right, then," said Penny, slowly bringing a bright silver whistle to her lips. "Operation Dinner Bell is a go."

"Can we change the name?"

She took a deep breath that seemed to go on and on, her chest blooming and her back arching, before blowing into the little piece of metal with all her lungs could give. She took another breath and delivered yet another ear-piercing, twittering screech that was sure to alert anything inside that building. Three more times she blew, then hastily scrambled for her binoculars to see whose attention she had grabbed.

"It's Chip first -- there's Pirate." She paused, and my stomach fell like a stone inside of me. "No Spot. Shit, shit, shit! He's not biting! Two are coming, get ready!"

Though the warm evening surrounded and pressed in on us with its hot and sticky air, I felt the beginnings of a cold sweat slice through the heat, prickling across my skin and setting off every nerve in my body. In that moment of hyperactive awareness of myself, I suddenly could not ignore the twitch in my lower left eyelid, like somebody kept gently poking me just beneath the eye. I could not ignore the worsening tightness in my core and thighs, now nearing the point of pain as the tension and my anxiety grew to what must have been unprecedented levels. And I could not ignore the beads of sweat conjoining across my forehead, trickling down and through my eyebrows until settling in and stinging my eyes. I quickly wiped them away, hoping neither Vee nor Penny would notice.

A sound somewhat like a galloping horse grew louder and louder every passing second, and two threatening little specks at the other end of the field started to draw close with startling speed. Penny's rifle barked first, then Vee's shortly after, and everything after that just sounded like a handful of big firecrackers going off. At first I couldn't help but flinch after every report, but eventually my brain just started to tune it out like thunder during a storm. Each of them would pause for a moment after every shot, reacquire, and fire again. They looked totally calm -- their faces placid, their stances never shifted, and I could see how smoothly Penny's hands flew across her weapon as she ejected the magazine from it.

"Out, reloading," she said as she grabbed another magazine from her jacket. A other-worldy scream far off and still far too close for comfort sounded in the field.

"Left is down," said Vee, twisting her torso right to such a minute, exacting degree that it almost looked robotic.

"Liam, shoot!"

Now my target was clear, and I could see the ghastly glowing eyes and the flexing mandibles that barely so much as flinched with every bullet impact. After no more than a second of being frozen, I had to consciously tell myself to move, to relax the tightness gripping my body and do what I told them both I would be able to do. The stock pressed into my shoulder, the front and rear sights lined up over the horror bearing down on us, and I took a breath.

"Liam!"

The shotgun shuddered with a deafening boom that left my ears ringing and made me momentarily deaf to the rifles on either side of me. I couldn't see any effect on the chryssalid and both Vee and Penny were still firing, so I racked another shell and took aim again. Another pull of the trigger, another boom, and a billowing cloud of rapidly dissipating smoke cleared to reveal my sights were clear; the chryssalid was down. Whether it was my shot that did it or not -- who could say?

Penny wasted no time whipping out her binoculars, scanning her surroundings by eye before bringing them up to look at the building again. "Spot's still a no-show. Fucker. That's not right. Normally they chase any stimulus at all. Hell, they'll chase birds; that's how they get so far from home to start with."

"This one called Spot," Vee said, checking her magazine before replacing, "You said it was missing the bioluminescent organs. Battle damage or by design?"

"I don't know. It never looked hurt. It was like it never had them in the first place."

"The newer blood line. Slightly smarter. They are known to burrow to set ambushes." Vee looked back at me, maybe wondering why I was so quiet. "Liam, breathe."

"Well, I'm not wasting this chance," Penny said, trying not to laugh as I let go of a ragged breath I hadn't known I had been holding. "If I have to go in to drag his corpse out, I will."

"Engaging with a chryssalid in close quarters is very stupid."

"You don't want to come in, that's fine." She flicked the selector switch on her rifle and took her first steps into the field, headed directly towards the building.

Vee looked to me like I would be able to stop her, but I wasn't thinking of that at all. "If we leave one, it just becomes two, and then four, and then this was all for nothing. Are you okay with that?"

She frowned and loosed a low hiss that almost seemed to shake my teeth; I set my jaw to try and stave off the feeling. The hiss grew a little louder as she took another look at the structure, then gazed longingly back in the direction of the car. With a dissatisfied huff she spun back around and fell in behind Penny, and I quickly collected myself before joining them. While walking I racked the shotgun again, ejecting the empty shell and putting a fresh one in the chamber. After fifty yards or so, we came upon the second chryssalid to have been downed. It twitched spastically, no doubt due to the myriad holes punched through its carapace.

"Nice shooting, Liam," Penny said, using her gun's barrel to point at a large hole down where the four legs joined together. "Reckon that one stopped him dead in his tracks. Here," she reached behind her to pull a pistol from her waistband and offered it to me, "the honor's all yours."

It felt heavier in my hand that the shotgun, and as I turned to stare down at the twitching alien bleeding out on the ground, still weakly grasping like it might yet still have some chance to grab hold of me, I found myself wishing I didn't have to. I wished Penny would have, or Vee. I wished the gun would jam, I wished the bullets were defective, and deep down, some part of me wished that I had it in me to just do as I was asked. But something was missing -- I didn't know, but in the place of where whatever it was should be I could only feel a growing sense of nausea.

"Mindless," Vee said, scooting just a little closer to me. She slowly reached over and flicked the safety off the pistol for me. I couldn't believe I had forgotten that. "It's okay."

The tightness in my chest and nausea disappeared, like they'd never been there in the first place. A moment longer and my finger found the trigger. The chryssalid's head slammed into the dirt and the twitching subsided. We left it just like that -- another corpse on the battlefield of Earth. Nobody said another word as we finished crossing the field and into the abandoned ADVENT structure.

"Blast residue around the edges," said Vee, trailing her hand across the broken wall as we went inside. Her tongue began to dart in and out. "Improvised explosive, bad ratios. Likely resistance."

Indoors was weakly lit by overhead fluorescent lights which ran along the entire length of every hall and room in a recess within the ceiling, like one continuous circuit. Bullet casings were scattered everywhere. Splotches slightly darker than the black walls were easily recognizable as blood, and based on the sickly orange and rust-colored splatters on the white tiled floor, it was clear humans and ADVENT had died fighting over the place. Apart from the empty husk of a chryssalid's bullet-riddled exoskeleton, the place was curiously devoid of bodies, and I found myself wondering if chryssalid's had appetites.

"It's here," Vee whispered, tasting the air.

We followed the corridor, Penny leading and Vee bringing up the rear. At the turn of the corridor was a large room with a big patch of grass and mushrooms growing in the corner, fed by a water leak from a crack in the ceiling. The walls were the same smooth metal as the rest of the facility save for a black window on the left, but there were dozens of scratches gouged into the material and the bottom few inches were discolored by some sort of stain that also spread across the parts of the floor untouched by plants. A drain was placed in the middle of the floor, and on the back wall was another door, though this one was taller and wider compared to the entryway which seemed only big enough for a human. The next dozen rooms we passed were all the same, some with plant life but most without, and the first thought that came to mind was that it looked like a kennel. A shiver ran down my spine; I didn't have to think too hard to imagine what might have been gone on here.

"This makes no sense," Penny whispered, clearing each room we passed. Her voice was deeper and uneasy, like she was trying not to vomit. "Chryssalids are cloned like others, aren't they? Why breed them?"

"Because this isn't a breeding facility," Vee said. She rounded the next corner and swept the next room, lingering a little longer on the darkened corners. "If they're cloned, only reason to breed them is to induce fear. Tell prisoners what's about to happen to them, show it to other prisoners. Someone will crack. Never knew a facility like this existed, but unsurprised. Elders tortured many in different ways. Fight here must have been a rescue attempt many months ago. If the facility was never reclaimed, it must have been close to the end of the war."

The room at the far end of our current hall looked like a control room of sorts, or a security station. It was much darker, with the only light coming from the red glow of a wall of screens, some cracked but still functioning for the most part. They all read as offline save for a handful which showed video feeds of empty rooms. On the opposite wall was a desk and half a dozen computers that looked nothing like I'd ever seen. I didn't see any hardware besides what looked like an impossibly thin monitor and equally thin keyboard. The screen still flickered with several windows I couldn't fully make out, limited as my knowledge was of the ADVENT language. Penny strolled right over and started typing away like she knew what she was doing.

"What are you doing?"

"Relax, Liam. Remember when I told you I was a pencil-pusher? Who do you think I was pushing them for?" Several new windows popped up, and Penny expertly navigated her way around them in no time at all, each one bringing up a new window or prompt that disappeared equally as fast. "In the cities, everybody worked for ADVENT in one way or another."

"Can this wait? Aren't we hunting a chryssalid?"

"Chill. The room's clear and it's not like there's any dirt in here for him to burrow into. Where's he going to come from?"

Not a moment later the ceiling opened up like a bomb had crashed through, and our quarry didn't even bother to wait for the dust to clear before screeching and rushing down the closest living thing. Penny spun around with her weapon ready, but one of the chryssalid's claws knocked it away before she could line up the barrel. The burst from her gun hit the far wall and its many screens, showering the room in the white glow of sparks. Not a second later Vee's tongue shot out from her mouth, wrapping itself around Penny's torso and pulling her out of the way while the alien's two spiked legs drove themselves into the table where she had been just a heartbeat before. With Penny out of the way, that made me the next closest thing, and I knew it. Strangely, I didn't feel the freezing touch of fear like before. I didn't feel anything but the adrenaline inside, screaming at me that action -- not fear -- was needed.

"Move out of the way!"

"Liam, down!"

The shotgun roared and jumped in my hands, and the chryssalid reeled back like it had been hit by a car, then crumpled to the floor still twitching and screaming bloody murder. I wasn't even aware I had raised my gun, and only after realizing it was me that had fired did I feel my hands moving to rack another shell. Another blast echoed through the facility and then the chryssalid's head was nothing more than a pulpy, shredded mass of chitin and whatever the stuff underneath was, copiously oozing orange and yellow fluids onto the floor. My hands moved again and pumped another shell into the lifeless body, and another, and what would have been another before Vee rushed up and stayed my hands, squeezing one of her fingers between the trigger and the guard.

"It's gone. You got it," she said, cautiously slithering around to stand in front of me, her hands on either of my shoulders as the shotgun fell by my side. "Slow down your breathing. Sit down," she said, growing taller to push me down until my knees buckled and I fell backwards onto my rear, my back leaning against the wall. A few yards from me Penny still laid spread-eagle on the floor, only barely propped up by her backpack and staring hard at the ceiling like she expected another alien to drop through. Her chest heaved and her hands were shaking so much she felt compelled to let go of her rifle, gently pushing it just out of reach.

"I really appreciate that, Vee," she said between her panting. She rocked forwards into a sitting position, grabbed her gun, then got up and dusted herself off before going back to one of the undamaged computers up on the table beside me.

"You've really got a one track mind, don't you?" I felt my composure gradually return, my breathing slower and my racing mind easing back to normal, and took a closer look at the chryssalid's body. It certainly was different from the other two; the back was dominated by spiky protrusions that didn't glow at all and the torso looked a little more muscular. I saw the buckshot wounds tightly clustered around the neck and upper body, and a single large hole smack dab in the center of its chest; I had forgotten that there was one last slug shell in my gun.

"Check out these command windows," she said, her face lit red by the monitor. "Vee's right: this was a rescue op. Resistance busted in here, cracked the system wide open to find whoever they were looking for, then bounced. Personnel records, interrogation video and audio -- this here is the thing you just killed, a 'Generation 2' chryssalid." Her eyes scanned down across the dossier and her voice took on the monotone quality of a teacher reading from a textbook, "Bites from a Generation 2 are accompanied by a cytotoxic venom. Envenonmation occurs simultaneously with embryonic insertion and results in rapid onset of acute symptoms, included but not limited to inflammation, nausea, fatigue, tissue necrosis, an impending sense of doom, and death. Upon expiring, the victim's body undergoes rapid decomposition in a cocoon produced by the venom's interaction with an abundance of deoxygenated blood in the victim's bloodstream. Within this cocoon...,"

She paused, roughly swallowing a lump in her throat. "Within this cocoon, the new chryssalid quickly matures, using the victim's liquified remains as a food source before emerging fully matured. From here the cycle begins anew."

"Horrid creatures," said Vee, peering over our shoulders. I guessed she must have seen their handiwork before if she knew about them already. Penny moved the window and opened another, this time of a video file. A single man stood inside one of the rooms we had passed by earlier. He was obviously panicked, looking around and sweating bullets, screaming for help every two seconds. I had a sickening hunch I knew what was about to happen, and the moment the rear down opened to reveal a chryssalid, I turned away. I had no desire to see that, and neither did Vee. Penny couldn't tear her gaze away, however -- thank goodness she kept it muted. If she wanted to watch, I wasn't going to interrupt her.

"It's probably dark outside by now and I feel like camping here is kind of spooky," I said to Vee, who nodded. "Could we sleep in the car?"

"Very cramped," Vee hissed, tightly crossing her arms as if to demonstrate. "This structure hides us from view. Maybe spooky, like you say, but safer and slightly cooler than outside. Lighting also nice."

I spun around, scanning the walls and feeling like I was still being watched by someone or something. "Is it safe? How do we know there's nothing else waiting to surprise us?"

She thrust her tongue out, letting it linger for a while longer than usual before pulling it back in. "Cannot smell anything else."

"Yeah, well -- you didn't smell Penny either before she had a gun in my face."

"Many different scents outside. ADVENT buildings sterile and maintained. Far easier to differentiate between smells inside."

"It's my mother."

The atmosphere thickened, and turning to look at Penny was like moving in water. She was hunched over, her shoulders shaking like she was trying and failing to hold something in. On the screen was a picture of a woman that looked a lot like Penny, and beside it was a wall of text and numbers that I took to be an age and addresses or something similar. Across her face in giant ADVENT letters even I could read was a single word: terminated.

"My mother was here," she said, throwing a continuously looping video up onto the largest monitor. I averted my eyes, but the moment Vee tried to do the same, Penny snapped. "No! Not you! You have to fuckin' look! It's not even the whole fuckin' video, so you can be thankful for that. That was my mom! That was her! That's the woman that gave birth to me, that kept me going when dad died, that ran herself ragged just to make sure I still had a good life, that saved me from going to fight you shitheads."

Her cheeks streaked with tears, she stomped up to Vee to shove her shoulders, who I think allowed herself to be spun around; I didn't think a human could move a viper that did not want to be moved. "That was her. And all because she talked to somebody, she got grabbed and turned into fucking goo. And you know what they did when the bug was done? Do you? They washed what was left of her down a fucking drain!"

Penny's hand shot to her waist. I didn't know what was happening at first, but when she came up empty and then raised her rifle, I knew then she had been looking for the pistol she had given me outside. The same pistol I found myself pointing at her when she leveled the barrel of her gun at Vee's face.

"You've got to be shitting me," Penny said, trying to laugh through the tears. "I could understand wanting a friend after eight years all alone. I can understand latching onto anybody, even an alien, when you had no idea of the -- of the terror they've spread across every corner of the planet. But now, after knowing something like this, after seeing how disgusting they were and probably still are, you'll still defend her? Them?"

Vee's gaze fell. My hand was shaking. The adrenaline was back in full force, but it was taking its toll. "Please, please, please don't do this. She's my friend." My voice shook as well.

"You're just a fucking meal ticket, dude! You're the reason I didn't blow her away the second I saw you two, and you're probably the reason the skirmisher guys didn't do the same. No matter how small it is, you are nothing but a second chance to her, a way to make others hesitate. The moment she has to, she'll cut you out of the picture without a second thought. You are human. They are alien. They will never be our friends. This whole time I have tolerated her because of you, because I thought she'd be useful, and if you have even a shred of humanity left inside of you then you'll understand when I tell you right now that tolerance has ended."

"Please. Penny, I'm begging you. Just -- please just get back into your car and drive away. That's all you have to do. She had nothing to do with this."

"I'm going to count to three, Liam. You'll have to make your choice then because I know what mine is."

"Penny--"

"One."

"Just drop it, please!"

"Two."

"Drop your fucking gun!"

"Three."

And so I made my choice.

-Chapter 12-

We'd been in the Virginian wilds for a while now. Maybe a week? I couldn't remember. The days were just sort of blurring together, punctuated only by moonless nights on account of the forest canopy. The trees were densely packed and the utter lack of any trails made navigation difficult. We could have taken some service roads a little further if the car had still worked. It had only lasted for a dozen more miles anyway; the power cut out even though the battery was still charged, just like Penny said it sometimes would. As such we were forced to continue on foot just like before, only now I found myself wishing again for the comfort of air conditioning, upholstered seats, and a smooth ride, even if it had only lasted just a little longer.

"Liam!"

My head snapped left and I saw a bright pair of red eyes looking right back at me. She stood in silence for a moment before pointing at where I was going. A little further and I would have run face first into a dirt cliff threaded with thick roots by the trees growing over it. I corrected my path and she still stopped me with a sudden hissing; another step and I would've tumbled down a small embankment.

"You're not paying attention." Her English was practically perfect now. Apart from the very occasional hiss in her 's' sounds, it would have been easy to assume she'd spoken it her whole life. Gone were the breathy noises or the forced syllables that made her speech harsh.

"Sorry. Just -- thinking. A lot."

She meant to turn back around by hesitated to give me a second glance. "What are you thinking about?" When met only by my silence, she sighed. "You must be attentive. There's a little further to go before we reach the river. We'll camp on the other side."

I had come to dread the nightfall, when we would settle down and let the cold silence envelop us. It was too quiet. It left too much time for wandering thoughts that I was powerless to suppress. When everything was dark and yet my memories would flash across my eyes like I was reliving them over and over again, constantly saying the same things, constantly doing the same things and still wishing for another outcome. But no matter how much I tried to change things in my head, I still felt the recoil shock my arm. I still saw the puff of red like smoke and I still saw Penny's body drop abruptly to the ground like a rock, the moment's surprise frozen on her face. I had done my best to leave these memories at her shoddy grave -- made from bits of metal from the building and rocks from outside -- but I've been plagued every second since, dreaming or awake.

While the silent nights drove me crazy, the noisy days had grown tiresome as well. Instead of being energized and alert, I felt like the sun sapped my strength. The birds, insects, and all of the other critters and sounds a forest could offer were nothing but annoyances, a grating assault on my senses that often drove me to irritability. Not only were the sounds themselves bothersome but also the fact I couldn't find solace in silence or in the commotion of daytime. I wondered if Vee was beginning to notice -- how could she not?  I had the vague sense that some of my answers to her questions or commands might have been a little snappy or exasperated, but I couldn't tell at the time.

Was this who I was now? A killer like my dad and brother? Did they live in fear of their own thoughts and dreams, endlessly replaying the those fateful days? Or was it justified to them and so they went about their lives as usual? Like mom, dad had hid how the invasion changed him well. My brother and I were always mad and distant with each other after our parents had passed so I could also never tell if he too had changed after being forced to take lives.

"Be careful," said Vee, watching me stumble across the same patch of rocks she had just effortlessly slithered over. In the distance I could hear rushing water. As we drew closer to the source the trees were just a little thicker and their leaves brighter and lush. The ground behind us was sparsely scattered with bushes and patches of grass, but now our path grew dense with thick shrubs and weeds as tall as Vee. Some were so thick that they actually put up a stubborn fight as we tried to brush past them.

A little further on and we came to the river itself. The water flowed by a handful of large mossy rocks spread out near the opposite side, breaking up the current and producing a roaring churn of whitewater. Vee sank to the ground, dipping a hand into the water before drawing back and shaking it off. She looked around for a moment like she was considering her options, then began to pace up and down the river for a short distance as if looking for something. A moment later and she returned with a long, heavy stick, which she used to gauge the water's depth. The water line was shallow but must have fallen off into a steep shelf; she had more than half the stick submerged in the water just a few feet out. She frowned while taking out the datapad from her backpack.

"No bridges marked," she said. "We can travel upstream and look for shallows or some other way across. Downstream is more likely to lead to other settlements."

We traveled a little further along the bank, stopping every so often so Vee could test the water's depth. She seemed single-minded but it was clear she had something else going on in that head of hers. She would steal glances my way when she thought I wasn't looking, and when I did happen to meet her gaze she would hold it until I looked away first. She was probing. I didn't like it. Maybe I just lacked the spine to tell her to stop. At the next water-depth check, she opened her mouth to say something and before I could cut her off, she rose fully as if stunned, staring off into the distance behind me. I whipped around, my adrenaline already spiking.

Instead, it was just a clearing in the canopy behind us. Through the trees, far off in the distance, was the tip of a mountain. Only barely capped by snow, it stood out against the blue sky behind it, wind periodically whipping out a gust of snow that seemed to trail off the mountain like smoke.

"First time seeing a mountain?"

"From the ground. And from this close."

"Yeah, I think that's the -- uh, that should be part of the Appalachian Mountain range. In fact I think we're kind of tracing the western edge of it. Good thing, because I wouldn't want to go hiking through them this time of year." She stared a little while longer while the silence grew and grew, like one of the weeds that we had pushed past. It was beginning to annoy me, like I was already carrying so much and she was just stacking on even more weight. "Can you please--"

"There," she pointed at a log further upstream precariously suspended above the water. She picked up her pace, completely ignoring that I had been about to say something else. If she was content to let it be, I was too.

The log turned out to be a relatively fresh tree most likely felled by the river itself, judging by how much of the roots closest to the water were exposed. Either by erosion or maybe by a flood some time ago, it now stretched all the way across the water. A few new green shoots sprouted up along the trunk even though the root system had been turned on its side; they must have been new plants using the log as a home. I knocked on the trunk and it felt fairly solid with no obvious signs of rot or insect damage. I clambered up and tested it with some heavy stomping. It didn't budge an inch and felt hard beneath my feet.

"It's definitely solid. Should be fine."

Vee slithered by first, gently pushing me aside. Instead of simply moving across in a straight line,  she weaved back and forth just a little bit. It was like she was trying to lay more of her body across the trunk as she moved across, perhaps to provide her with more stability. She cautiously slipped around the numerous growths bulging outward and safely made it to the other side, from which she waved me across. I knew she was heavier than me, so I was a little more confident in the log's ability to hold me. Still, I stepped carefully and tested each spot with the ball of my foot before committing my full weight to it. Apart from nearly tripping once, everything went well.

We went back downstream to where we had seen the whitewater and set up camp just a couple dozen yards from the water's edge. I had a blanket in my backpack, which I laid out for us to put our things on; at night, she would lie atop of it with her own blankets covering her. We each took a bite of a c-stick. I closed my eyes in some vain attempt to relax; all I saw was Penny. Yet I couldn't keep my eyes open, tired as I was from the day's trek. I slipped my boots off and rolled my socks partway down to rub at a blister rubbed raw just above my heel. The sweat on my hands just made it sting worse but the sharp pain cleared my mind, if only for a moment.

"Bathe," Vee said.

"What?"

"Bathe now before it gets colder. Then change your clothes and rinse your dirty ones. You're masking other smells. Not to mention others may smell you before we even see them."

A dip in the river did sound pretty good. The water was probably freezing but I was sure it could wash away some of the weight I was carrying -- and not just the dirt and sweat. "Yeah, I guess. Makes sense." I lifted one arm just to see how bad it was. Rank did not begin to describe it, and I would have bet my overalls would have stood on their own with the amount of grime they'd soaked up.

"Don't wander. Stay within sight of one another."

A normal person might have put up even token protest out of nothing else but embarrassment, but I was far too tired to even care at that point. Not to mention I doubted soldiers, alien or human, cared much for privacy in the field, so why should I? I rummaged through my bag to see what other clothing I had: two pairs of boxers, three shirts, a pair of blue jeans, and another pair of socks. I grabbed an outfit and kicked the backpack away to struggle up onto my feet, weighed down by the soreness in my muscles that only felt worse with every step I took towards the water.

I dipped a hand in just to test. It wasn't quite freezing, but far from tropical. Submerging myself would probably be a bad idea without a fire to warm and dry myself by. I kicked off my boots and socks and stripped to my boxers, then took a few tepid steps out into the river to see how deep it got. I stopped when the rushing water lapped up past my knees. Any further in and I thought the current might have swept my legs out from under me. I cupped my hands into one of the whitewater churns from beside one of the large rocks; it looked clear and clean enough, so I threw it against my face. The shock from each splash of frigid water blinded my senses for a few moments, making it easy to forget anything and everything else. When I closed my eyes I didn't see Penny or her mild surprise, I didn't see the puff of red or feel the gun rattle my bones -- all I felt was the refreshingly biting cold.

And then a shock of surprise when I opened my eyes to see Vee beside me, shirtless and throwing water over herself.

"I need to shed," she quietly said upon noticing how I had frozen up. She held up her arm to show me a split that ran down the length of it like a popped seam, the edges frayed and tattered with dull, whitish skin that swayed gently with her movements. Beneath it was the same color, only far more vibrant. That was when I noticed her entire body was a little dull compared to that one patch of bright scales on her arm.  "I was wondering if I could -- if you would help me."

"Uh, sure. I don't know how -- I mean, what do you need me to do?"

She sank all the way down to submerge as much of herself as possible beneath the shallow water. Only the top of her head and hood were visible. She sat like this for a couple of long minutes, and I was too curious to do anything else other than watch. She slowly rose from the water afterwards and checked on that seam of skin on her arm, tugging it gently. It gave way just a little -- apparently enough to satisfy her. She spun around to face away from me, took a few deep breaths, and hunched forward far enough that it looked like she was trying to curl herself into a ball. New seams stretched before popping down her back and tail, and when she relaxed again they looked like wrinkles across her previously smooth scales.

"Just find an edge and start pulling gently," she said before looking away again, "if you're not too disgusted."

"No, that's fine. It's not disgusting." Way back in middle school, my homeroom had a class pet. He was an old corn snake named Colonel that sometimes needed help shedding due to his age; we would just soak him in a lukewarm bath for a little bit and that would usually ease things for him. But he and other snakes usually shed all in one piece and with minimal assistance. "Do you guys normally need help shedding? Earth snakes usually just rub up against a rock or something."

"We have no issues on our own," she said, shuddering a little as I peeled away an inch or so of the old, "but this is the only part of my old life I liked."

"What, you mean under ADVENT?" She nodded. "Was it communal or something?"

"Not exactly." She stretched her neck as far out as possible, causing a seam around her jawline to split that she tore even further by flexing and moving her jaw. She reached up and peeled it with her hands, back down as far as she could reach over her hood. I took over and slowly tugged it down her body inch by inch. It felt tough and wax-like between my fingers, though it seemed to quickly dry after being pulled from her body. "We would help each other just because it felt...nice. I didn't know why at the time, but now that I can think clearly on my own, it's--" She let go a great sigh. "There was no socializing, no friendship, no camaraderie. Everybody was just a tool and we weren't even aware of that much; we were just mindless drones doing as instructed. It didn't matter if you died or were left behind. But when my sisters and I helped each other with something so simple, it felt like someone cared. Looking back now, I think it felt nice to have someone touch me with no intention of harming, changing, or controlling me."

"What did you mean back at the house when I asked you what life was like, and you showed me the alarm clock? I still haven't gotten that."

"The clock was me. Until ADVENT wound me up, all I did was exist. I acted only when allowed. I was no different from that clock or any of the war machines ADVENT also used. We were all the same. The programming went a little too deep for some. That's why some ADVENT forces still fight. Others only wish to survive; humans fight so they are forced to defend themselves."

She normally spoke so strongly and with such authority, so to hear her reduced to a quiet, meek, nearly shuddering voice put me on edge. Something was wrong but I didn't know what, and I didn't know if I should press her or not. Unfortunately, my curiosity got the best of me. "Were you among the latter?" She kept quiet, only letting the beginning of a low hiss slip out before she squelched that too. "What happened to your garrison? Donovan -- one of the three that had been chasing you -- said they ambushed a patrol and torched the building, then picked off whoever came out."

She shook her head. "The patrol they ambushed," she said, angrily hissing, "was our surrender party. We hadn't left the garrison since the fall of the psionic network. Food had run out and we decided to take our chances with a surrender instead of starving to death. The moment one of my sisters and two troopers stepped out unarmed, they were cut down. We feared they were going to storm the building and kill us, so we returned fire from the windows. Then there were flames everywhere, nobody answered my calls, and I decided to escape out the back into the woods."

I thought I might've had something deeper to say, and stopped peeling down her skin while I searched my thoughts. There was nothing, however. "I'm sorry."

"Do not apologize," she quickly added. By now I had gotten her old skin down to her hips -- at least they looked a lot like hips; slightly wider than her torso before traveling on into her tail. Her body seemed to lean into my touch as my hands travelled. She shimmied left and right like someone trying to shake themselves out of a pair of pants two sizes too tight. "That's fine. Thank you." She slithered out of the water and wrapped herself once around the nearest tree, slowly dragging her body across its rough surface. The rest of her old skin caught on the bark and pulled free from her form like a ghostly after-image. The bundle of skin I had rolled across her hips slid down, down, down her tail until she finally just crawled right out of it, leaving it stuck to the tree and weakly waving in the wind. She threw out her arms and gaped her jaw in an enormous stretch as if trying to quickly wear in her new skin.

"That feels better," she sighed, her tongue flicking in and out. She practically glowed even in the approaching dusk's softening light. Her entire body shined with the same colors and concentric diamond patterns, only everything about her was ten times as brilliant. The black and white and orange popped out like onyx, snow, and the fruit of the same name. The yellow that covered most of her body reminded me of the early morning sunlight peeking in through a window. Even the cream-colored scales that covered her underside like overlapping chevrons just seemed so much more visible -- from the wide ones lower down all the way to the smaller, tightly packed ones that covered her abdomen and breasts, or whatever they were. They lacked nipples which threw me off, but looking at how bright and vibrant her entire body was I couldn't help thinking--

"Beautiful."

I froze. I had certainly not meant to say that out loud.

She froze as well, her gaze traveling down her body and across one arm to the other, like she was trying to see what I did. "What?" She had never asked me to repeat myself before. She heard everything I did, understood everything I said. I didn't know if she was giving me a chance to take it back or if she was as dumbfounded as I was.

"Your colors, I mean. They're -- you know, I just never realized they could be so bright. You look like, uh--"

She cocked her head, puzzling at me with wide eyes that spoke either to genuine confusion or disbelief. The fading sunlight danced across her scales. I looked up and back at what was left of daylight as it slowly fell towards the horizon; the sky was splashed with orange, with only the clouds most closely hugging the sun sharing in its golden color.

"You look like the sunset, to be honest."

She took a moment to shield her eyes as she peered upwards to take in the colors of an early sunset. A cautious smile tugged at the edges of her mouth. It disappeared when her tongue slipped out to taste the air a little more eagerly than usual.

"What is it?"

"Rain is coming."

"Wow, you can tell that? I don't hear anything."

"It smells different from rivers or oceans -- cleaner. We have time to shelter. Gather any large sticks you can find," she said, spinning around to immediately start looking. "Look for branches with leaves on them as well. Tear them off the trees if you must. Tough, waxy leaves work best but any will suffice."

I splashed myself with water one last time and used my dirty overalls to dry off before slipping into my change of clothes, which clung uncomfortably to my damp skin. We fanned out in opposite directions, scanning the forest floor for anything we could use. When my path drew close to our backpacks, I took a moment to retrieve one of the knives so I could cut any branches I came across. I found plenty of twigs and sticks, some with great big oak or maple leaves still attached. When I turned around she was already hard at work aligning the pieces she had found.

"You're making a lean-to."

"Yes." She took out the two spools of tripwire and began lashing sticks together, sticking three of them straight into the ground in a line, then lashing more across them to act as a rafter. I helped her lay the roof, which she quickly secured using more of the wire. With the leafy branches laid across the top in a thick layer, it looked like a pretty good shelter. Except for the fact that it was fairly small. Not that it mattered at all -- no sooner had we finished did the first signs of a drizzle start to fall. She stuffed our belongings as far in as she could, closest to where the roof met the dirt, and then laid out my sleeping bag and motioned for me to crawl inside. My concern grew alongside the rain's intensity when I saw how much space I was taking up.

"Where are you going to sleep?" I asked, worriedly watching her stuff the blankets back into her hiking pack.

"Relax." She then slowly slid one coil of her body up over my head, such that the tip of her tail seemed to frame my shoulders, then continued to curl her body around me until her head laid atop my stomach and her hands folded beneath her chin. "The sleeping bag is water-proof, like my scales. The blankets are not."

"You're going to be cold."

"But not freezing. I will be fine for the night."

The lean-to held remarkably well given how hastily it had been constructed. A few drops of water found their way through, plopping down onto the sleeping bag or Vee's scales and beading up before falling away again. She seemed entirely unconcerned and as far as I could tell, already asleep, her head slowly rising and falling . As loud as the rain was, it was oddly therapeutic, as rains often are. It was like white noise -- a dull, constant roar that seemed able to drown out everything else, my own thoughts included, thank goodness. Every time I closed my eyes, however, I still couldn't help seeing her face, frozen with that flash of surprise in her eyes when I found it in me to pull the trigger...

"You need to sleep. You are more restless each night."

"I know, it's just -- I know."

She sighed deeply. I lifted my head just enough to peer down at her and waited. I didn't know what else was coming, but I knew it was something. That sort of sigh was never let go without words following quickly behind.

"I remember the first person I ever killed," she whispered just barely louder than the rain. My throat tightened as her voice seemed to unusually waver; she was normally so sure of every word she spoke. "The moment the Elders fell, the moment the network went down -- I saw that first human again. Everything was more vivid than when I had experienced it, like all this time certain details had been suppressed. When I crawled over the wreckage to see him, I saw his leg pinned beneath the ruined wheel. I saw that he was unarmed, crying out as he tried to pull the shreds of his leg out from beneath the twisted metal. I heard him begging for his life and holding his hands out, imploring me to stop. I saw the streak of plasma puncture his chest, illuminating his flesh from the inside out and silhouetting his ribcage for an instant. I heard him try to gasp for air, grasping for anything nearby like -- like he wasn't ready. At the end of it he just gurgled once, then slumped sideways into the dirt as blood trickled from his lips."

I felt her moving and looked down to see she had curled her head inwards, hiding her face from me. She paused, but I don't think it was for me to add anything to her story.

"Out of the countless humans I've shot, crushed, strangled, envenomed -- I still see that first human. It used to be every night, but now it's just once or twice a week I hear him crying for his mother. I want--" She stopped again, like the words had caught in her throat. Her tail twitched by my head as I felt one of her hands gripping the sleeping bag hard enough that I could feel her claws through it. "I want to forget but I feel like if I do it just proves I am a monster, even without the Elders controlling me."

"You're not," I said, unsure of what else to add. Was she looking for support? Judgement or forgiveness? Should I have even opened my mouth at all? Her grip on me through the sleeping bag relaxed. I doubted my words had anything to do with it. The horror of her recollection had probably just passed. She unfurled herself and I could again see her face, and even in the encroaching night I could see her eyes wide open. A drop of rain found its way through the roof and fell on her, sliding down the side of her head. She didn't even flinch. "I'm sorry. I really am."

"Do not apologize. Just understand that -- that good people can be forced to do bad things. It does not make you lesser but it is something you will live with for the rest of your life. I told you this because I was ready to, and because I know exactly why you are quiet, despondent, and restless. I know why you shiver in your sleep and mumble to yourself while we walk. You may speak to me about it whenever you wish and I will listen because I know how it feels."

She closed her eyes again, sparing me the embarrassment of seeing my twisted face as I tried desperately to strangle my sudden sobbing, only made worse when she threw my words back at me again. "I do not want you to feel bad for defending me or yourself. Every second I am still breathing after that moment is thanks to you. In truth, I had frozen. I saw his eyes in Penny's. I would not have survived without you."

I tried to keep everything bottled up inside, to stay as still and as quiet as I could so as not to disturb Vee as she laid quietly on top of me. I failed.

-

I woke up already drained of energy; Penny had still haunted my dreams. The rain had stopped and dawn had just begun to poke its bright little fingers through the trees. My throat and chest ached and the blister on my ankle started to sting the moment I even so much as thought about it. It was going to be a very long day of walking. I sat up and crawled out of the sleeping bag, sitting on it as I put on my boots before finally rolling it up and packing it away.

"Vee?"

"Relax."

Being immediately told to relax when nothing was happening set off a few alarms in my head. I hit my head on the lean-to as I popped up to see Vee behind it. She was wearing a Megadeth shirt now -- another of my brother's -- and laying comfortably atop her own coils, staring intently at a surprise visitor.

He was a very lanky looking fellow, tall and skinny and wearing a dirty pair of dark business slacks that conspicuously mismatched with his bright orange shirt and brown leather jacket. His oddly misshapen head was tightly wrapped in rags like a shemagh, leaving only his eyes exposed but even they were hidden by a pair of grossly oversized aviators that could have been from a costume or gag outfit. He wore more rags around his hands and feet, and I realized that he had hidden every bit of visible skin. He looked human enough at a glance, but nobody hides their entire body without a reason -- Well, well! A smart one, intelligent, sharp! Like a needle, a whip, a blade, a pen -- no, scratch the pen!

"Hold on. I -- Vee, are you talking? I didn't say anything."

"Not me. Relax. It's psionic. Say hello to our sectoid friend."

I turned to stare hard at our visitor, like I might burn a hole through those chromed aviators he wore -- Yes, it's me! I think-speak! Odd sensation, no? Relax like your friend says, I mean you no harm or trouble or ill omens or--

"Stop! God's sake, stop. This -- this is weird. I can't hear myself think. You sound like me in my head. Do something to sound different."

He leaned towards me, though kept himself planted firmly on the rock upon which he sat. He stared uncomfortably long and then shot back to his original position. [Is this better, superior, improved?]

This sectoid was quite the fast talker. "Yes. Why the Irish accent?"

[You said to sound different, unique! Now my speech doesn't sound like your thoughts! Never met an Irishman before, oh no, but Mister Murphy seemed a fine fellow!]

Mister Murphy had been my eighth grade history teacher. Short, loud, and lively, he took a genuine interest in his subject and loved to dress up as the historical figures he taught us about. "How do you know him? Are you reading my mind? How does this work?"

[Very simply, simply put, though the ins-and-outs and details itty-bitty might drive a human mad! Minds are very, very easy to take cues from. You say sound different, your mind recalls others who have sounded different. I pick and choose from those thoughts -- Irish, Bostonian, German, and many others. Brains are very fickle, think of random things at random times for random reasons or none at all! Like now, for instance -- you seem glum. Always liked that word, it sounds so silly. Glum, glum, glum. Other things that made you glum: being turned down by Laura in fifth grade, your chickens dying in the fire, your fights with your brother, the death of your parents, Penny--]

"Stop," I said, my tone itself a warning. Though if I understood him correctly it didn't matter what tone I used. He would know before I even spoke it.

[Oh yes, very sorry, terribly, terribly sorry. Private moments, I see, I understand, no worries. I will filter those out and away, avoid them entirely. But it works in practical terms too! Never before have I seen a chicken, never knew what one was before meeting you, but now I know how they sound, how they taste! Taste is amazing -- like now! You bring up things called oregano, garlic, beef, ketchup -- now I know these things as well! Life must have been amazing for humans before the war!]

"Yeah, it kind of was," I said, trying not to sound bitter, though by making a conscious effort not to he probably sensed it anyway. "Look, I don't mean to sound rude but was there a reason you stopped by? We should probably be on our way."

[Oh no, nothing so important or pressing. I was passing by on my way southward to some beaches I saw in another human's memories. I doubt they're so pristine now but I'd still love to see them all the same! I have many miles to go before I sleep, though. During my travels I'll try to stop and chat with humans I sense are not so bloodthirsty, ones that are kind, good-hearted -- ones that give off good vibes! I love that phrase. Such humans are uncommon, hard to find these days, though sadly not without reason. And an accommodating viper is another rarity! I've met a few during my trip and they tend to keep to themselves -- again, for good reason! Humans are very distrustful of snakes, intelligent ones especially! Religious connotations, natural biological danger responses, uncanny valley -- no offense, Miss Vee.]

She nodded her head as if to say none was taken, then cast a worried look my way as she pointed at her slitted nostrils. I reached up to my nose and felt something warm and wet; blood dotted my fingertips when I pulled them away. Before I could react, Vee reached over and wiped it away with her cool, smooth hand, which she then wiped off on a shrub beside her.

[Oh goodness, I'm so very sorry. I swear, I promise I mean no harm. Human physiological responses to psionics are a mixed bag -- another phrase I like, you humans are full of them. Blood flow to cephalic region increases, blood pressure rises, so some fragile vessels in the nose go pop-pop! And you're right side dominant so the bleed comes from the left nostril! So interesting! I have no idea why. It will stop a few minutes after I leave, but for now take this.] He tore off a small piece of the bandages that wrapped his hands, exposing just a flash of the oddly pink flesh beneath, and offered it to me. I balled it together and stuffed it up my nose a little further than was comfortable. [But how she touches you! No recoiling, no flinching, no grimace of disgust! Oh, wonderful context! I love it, I love it. Ah, but I remember now: off-limits, off-limits! I understand, Miss Vee. Two peas in a pod, such strange ones you both are.]

"What is he talking -- er, thinking about?" Vee shook her head, almost looking like she was trying to hold in either a fit of laughter or rage. It was a little hard to tell. "Look, Mister Sectoid--"

[How rude of me never to introduce myself, my apologies, so sorry! Call me Johnny! It's the name of the last human I met and I liked him so much I took it for myself -- with his permission, of course!]

"Okay, Johnny. You said you're coming from the north and I'm guessing Vee told you about our trip. Do you know if we're near the West Virginian border?"

He slapped his hands against his legs like he was finally happy to be of help, kicking up a thin layer of dirt and dust whose absence left his hand prints on his slacks. [You are! There's a border sign just a few miles from here by a road forgotten, neglected, unused. Hard to read but it undeniably says welcome to West Virginia. Ah, you went there once, hiking with your father and grandfather? Such a beautiful view. Goodness, the men in your family were quite the outdoorsmen. I implore you to be cautious, however. A refugee camp is somewhat close by, erected two days ago. I wandered close enough to get a sense of them and I didn't feel anybody had any vengeance or bloodthirst in mind but I wouldn't call them friendly. Best to avoid them, steer clear I think.]

"Okay, that sounds like a good idea. We appreciate the info."

[Of course, of course, think nothing of it. Before I go, could you indulge me once more? Can you recall some favorite dish of yours -- breakfast, lunch, dinner, anything in between is fine as well! Maybe an old restaurant or something your mother made for you when you were feeling down, glum?]

Normal people traded wares, trinkets, supplies, but I guess Johnny the sectoid was a collector of memories. I didn't see any harm in it so I just leaned back against a tree --standing straight again after realizing it was still wet -- stared skyward, and tried to think of something that I'd kill to have on a plate in front of me right now. Grilled cheese dominated my childhood with how easy it was, and the thoughts of crispy, buttery, golden-brown bread overflowing with warm gooey cheese made my mouth start to water; when I was eight years old mom started to experiment with other cheeses besides american: swiss, mozzarella, pepper jack and others. While certainly up there, I couldn't outright say it was my favorite. Turkey tortellini, teriyaki chicken, a good old-fashioned hotdog would be great--

[Stop, stop! Goodness, that's quite enough. I try only to take what I've asked for but you've offered much, much more. The tastes, the smells, the sights of them! Just incredible. If my memory wasn't perfect I'd be writing these down for sure. Thank you so much, my eternal gratitude! I know you're trying to move during daylight so I'll leave you to it. Remember, avoid the refugee camp! A short walk from the tree line east. May we meet again when the world's a little more in order, put together, united.]

He clapped his hands together and stood, looking much taller than I had initially thought. It was almost like he was humming in my head as he walked away with more than a spring in his step, like my head was vibrating without actually moving at all. It was intensely disorienting, something that Vee felt as well as she shook her head while Johnny disappeared into the trees and bushes out of our view. A few minutes longer and the humming disappeared with him. I took the bit of rag out of my nose and waited a moment just to confirm that the bleeding had stopped. The rag wasn't exactly soaked; it had been a minor nosebleed.

"Oh my god," I said with a sigh of relief as I bent down to grab our bags. Vee took hers off my hands, taking just a moment to wipe some water and dirt from her rifle. "Are all sectoids like that? I know he wasn't using his mouth but I just kept waiting and waiting and waiting for him to take a breath but all he did was keep talking a mile a minute. I started holding my own breath and I don't even know why. That was weird."

"He is the first one I've met since ADVENT's fall. They were always fast thinkers even during combat." She stared into the brush in the direction in which he had disappeared. "I hope he makes it to his beach. Come."

After breaking down our night's shelter to reclaim the wire, we once again put ourselves on the path drawn out by the datapad. As we walked Vee began to notice a few more signs of other people, either on account of our proximity to a refugee camp or because we were technically within civilization now. Everything past the Virginia border was the formerly-ADVENT controlled Eastern United States trade zone. There were a few trails crossing our path here and there. Some were so subtle she had to point them out to me while others I could see clearly for myself; the relative lack of vegetation, packed dirt, and cleared branches were all clues of a trail. Following one a short distance, we finally came upon the road Johnny had told us about it. On the other side was an old street sign on the ground, heavily corroded and weathered. Welcome to West Virginia, it read. Vee suddenly stopped, frowning as she examined it.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Tell me what you think about that dent in the sign."

It was impossible to miss but I never would have given it a second glance. At her insistence I took a closer look and saw it wasn't just a simple dent, but more like something had stepped on the sign. The damage spanned a length just a bit longer than my forearm and bore four smaller smaller depressions at one end. "It sort of looks like a footprint. Maybe something big."

"Can you tell when?"

I couldn't at first and I wondered if she was genuinely asking or if this was another teaching moment. Stumped by her question, I started looking around for something that she saw which I didn't. My gaze traveled all over and saw nothing of interest so I started to look around the sign instead, thinking there may have been some clue I was missing. The first time I saw a nearby puddle I thought nothing of it, but when I found myself drawn to it a second time I finally understood why.

"The dent's got almost no rainwater in it and the sign's pretty level to begin with, so I don't think any water that might've been in there would have drained out. I would say this happened sometime after the rain stopped last night."

"Very good. It's a berserker's footprint. Highly dangerous with naturally armored bodies that severely limit the effectiveness of gunfire. They are slower than a chryssalid but much, much stronger and totally lacking in any intelligence. Their sole purpose is indiscriminate violence, though the Elders controlled that rage and used them against humans. Without that control, they most likely attack anything that moves with no provocation whatsoever." Her tongue whipped in and out. With no change in her demeanor, I knew she couldn't smell anything strange so there was no danger nearby. She looked down at the ground. "No footprints in the mud. It must be following the road. We will continue through the forest. Follow me closely and pay attention to your surroundings."

And just like that, the usual tension came back. The brief respite Johnny had brought, with his whimsical way of speaking and his fixation on good vibes, now evaporated entirely as we slowed our walk to little more than a crawl through the woods. Knowing one of these things, these berserkers, was in the area put me on edge. Every unavoidable crunch of leaves beneath us, every snapping twig or branch was like a gunshot in the silence. I was especially jumpy but Vee was calm as always, with the only sign we were in any sort of danger at all was her rapidly flicking tongue. In spite of my growing fear I thought I was holding together fairly well, though that sentiment eroded somewhat when, after half an hour of creeping, we started to come across parts of the forest that looked like they had seen a firefight.

"No plasma scorching or bullet holes," Vee whispered, closely inspecting one of the trees that had been ripped apart. The trunk was almost twice as wide as my body, and what was left was barely rooted into the ground and splintered so badly it almost looked as if it had been gnawed on. "No shrapnel either. This was the berserker."

We continued to move cautiously along, but we barely got a quarter mile further when Vee suddenly stopped, her upper lip curling like she was snarling. A moment later my nostrils were assailed by the pungently unmistakable aroma of a kill several days old.

"Does it smell human?" I asked.

"No. I don't know what it is other than the fact it is dead."

The smell grew worse and worse as we pushed on, smelling like a mixture of spoiled milk and a garbage bin full of meat in the middle of a hot summer day. I was nearly gagging when we happened upon the source. It was a deer carcass so completely pulverized that the only recognizable piece left was the head. The body was just a pulp of red meat already in the process of being spoiled brown and black. The nearby grass and foliage was copiously painted in the rusty brown of old blood, like something had just picked the poor animal up and thrashed it around like a ragdoll before deciding to just go to town on it with either a jackhammer or some kind of industrial meat tenderizer, if such a thing existed.

"We need to get out of here," said Vee, noting large, four-toed tracks on the ground. "This stench is overpowering. I can't smell anything else."

The leaves underfoot crunched noisily, but neither of us had moved an inch yet. Both of our heads spun on a swivel and lurking in the shade to our left was a vaguely humanoid monstrosity unlike anything I had ever seen before; the muscles looked exposed, masses of glistening red seemingly bulging up to split the white skin. Arms big enough to rip a man in two ended in two tightly clenched fists shaking faster and faster with each passing second, the knuckles gleaming with some sort of metallic inserts or attachments. The entire thing must have been the size of a car, topped by an unsettlingly featureless head save for ten black spots or beady little eyes, I couldn't tell. Most striking was the jaw that seemed to vertically split into two right down the middle, each half spreading out to reveal rows upon rows of massive teeth the size of steak knives. With the mouth fully agape it loosed a bellowing, bone-rattling roar that, instead of freezing my blood solid in my veins, seemed to fill me with fire.

"Run!"

I did not have to be told twice.

I took off like a shot. Vee followed close behind, overtaking me just a moment later. Behind us I could only hear more angry roaring and the thudding footsteps of something that must have weighed literal tons. The leaves above us shook and fell as other trees nearby were bowled over or outright broken as the alien gave chase. Vee's path closely wound this way and that in some pointless pattern at first, until I realized she was intentionally flying right by all of the thickest trees along our path. I risked a quick look back and saw the berserker not even bothering to change direction; it barreled through everything in its path, only lightly stumbling around any tree it couldn't outright run through. Vee was using the oldest, biggest trees to slow it down.

My lungs were aflame, my legs ached, and my head pounded. Every time it roared another shot of adrenaline dulled the pain but it wouldn't last forever. I was tiring, and the thought that we didn't know where we were going or how we would escape solidly set panic into my mind.

"Drop the backpack!" Vee shouted, spinning around to fire a short burst from her rifle. I could only guess it was the bullet impacts that sounded like a hammer smacking into flesh. Somehow the roar afterwards was even angrier than before. "We don't need it! It's not worth it!"

The bag slid off my shoulders in a heartbeat, and it was then I realized how much I had been carrying. Lighter and quicker, I was now able to almost keep pace with Vee. She didn't look nor sound winded. I briefly wondered if she could tire at all -- after all, why engineer alien soldiers like that? -- but those thoughts were chased away by another roar.

"Stop! Liam, stop!"

I was running on autopilot. I barely even registered she was speaking to me. I just kept sprinting as fast as my legs would carry me and when my forward foot came to the edge of a ravine, there was nothing but the primitive, animalistic part of my brain telling me there was a space; I needed to jump. It didn't care how big the gap was or what was underneath or that someone or something had told me to stop. Despite the burning in my legs my body found within itself one last surge to give that saw me sailing over what must have been a ten or twelve foot gap. Only after hitting the other side did I realize what had happened, though the terror was tempered by my awe at my own ability.

It was the river we had slept by last night, curving around to meet us again. Only instead of deep water with shallow rocky banks, here it was a deep gouge in the earth with a steep drop maybe a dozen feet down into rushing whitewater. I looked across and saw Vee's blood-red eyes wide, her pupils narrowed almost to nothing, her chest and shoulders heaving. It was the first time I had ever seen her look tired, and the first time I had seen even an ounce of panic in her eyes. I knew then that she couldn't jump. Not like a human, anyway. She wouldn't make it.

"You have to jump! Try!"

A moment of consideration flashed across her face and she frantically looked around for some other option. Maybe she could have anchored herself to a tree and stretched her body out as far as possible to where I might be able to grab her, maybe she could have travelled down the ravine's edge to cross at a shallows or perhaps find another log, but there was no time. Not far behind her was the living tank of red and white, roaring and taking its rage out on anything it passed within reaching distance, pulverizing rocks and smacking down trees like they were toothpicks.

She steadied herself at the edge, and I readied myself by laying on my stomach with my arm outstretched. She placed as much of herself out over the gap as she felt comfortable then scrunched her body together, packing each coil as tightly as possible on top of the last. She looked sort of like a bedspring; I might've laughed were it not for the life-and-death moment literally chasing us down. With the berserker close enough that I could feel its pounding footsteps through the ground, she launched herself at me, body straightening midair and one hand desperately reaching to catch mine. We just barely connected, and as she grabbed tight of me her claws raked my skin, leaving shallow gouges in my flesh. My arm stretched a little further than what should have been possible and a searing white-hot spike of pain drove itself through my shoulder, forcing a frantic scream through my teeth. All I could do was bear with it; she really was heavy -- far, far heavier than I would have thought. I remembered Gerard saying she was probably about three hundred pounds of muscle, but with her claws scraping through my flesh and my arm feeling like it was being torn from my body, she may as well have weighed as much as the berserker.

The blood her nails drew flowed down my arm, slickening my skin and loosening her grip. She perilously slid down to my wrist before she swung and heaved her tail upwards to furiously slap it around the in the dirt, desperately looking for anything to support her bulk. She finally managed to wrap just enough of herself around a twig I might have called a tree if I were feeling generous; both of us were too afraid to let go as she struggled to lift her body up and over the ravine's lip and only when she was completely on solid ground did we let go of one another. Afterwards I was fully cognizant of the pain my shoulder was in. Before another whimper or anguished cry could escape my mouth she reached over with her tail to straighten my arm out like like a splint -- much to my excruciating pain --  then used her hands to steady my shoulder and torso. She yanked downwards on my arm and everything popped right back into place with satisfyingly instant relief.

The berserker raged in place on the other side of the ravine, pacing back and forth while it mercilessly beat the ground with its clenched fists. It impotently roared, looking like more like a caged animal for the moment than some lethal beast.

"It can't swim. Too heavy. Don't know if the water is shallow enough for it to stand," said Vee as she poured water from her canteen over my arm to rinse it of blood.

"Can't it jump?" I panted.

"Not that far. I've never seen one do that."

"Well," I slowly stood, wiping my wet and still-bleeding arm against my shirt while dismally watching the beast draw back a few dozen yards, "this one's about to try."

We broke out at full speed again as the berserker made its running start. When it crashed onto our side I felt the ground move beneath my feet and I lost my balance for a moment. We were right back where we started. There was no plan, no escape, and our energy was quickly depleting. Though the deeper we ran into the forest the more sunlight began to filter in from our right side.

"Get past the tree line! Go!"

We turned sharply, allowing myself a glimpse of the berserker as it gently curved its path to head us off. We broke free of the woods and found ourselves sprinting through an empty field towards some ramshackle looking structure that reminded me of an old fort built of out plywood and sheet metal. Our pursuer smashed through the tree line hot on our heels, taking a few of the thinner ones with it into the field as the branches caught against and dragged from its ankles. I understood then what Vee was hoping for. I also understood what else may happen and I burned through every last ounce of energy I had to sprint ahead in front of her.

A resounding thunderclap boomed from behind the makeshift fort's walls and a gust of wind seemed to fly right over my head. Behind me I heard the berserker roar and its steps pace slowed to little more than a stumbling jog. Another thunderclap shook my bones and the roar slowly degraded into an unpleasant, wet gurgling. The stomping slowed and each step had more time between it and the next until one last crash brought it all to an end. The fort's gates opened as I looked back to see the monster face down in the grass, dull yellow blood still spurting from two huge holes in its head like some disgusting water fountain. I took the split second of opportunity to put myself between Vee and our fast approaching rescuers. They were on us in a heartbeat, staring us down through the sights of their rifles and their fingers on the triggers. My gesture didn't do much; the six of them fanned out to surround us.

"Don't move a muscle," the one in front said. He nodded his head and another one of them quickly stepped forward to relieve Vee of her rifle and the pistol in my waistband. "Give me a reason not to vent the fuck out of you -- especially the snake."

"We're not -- it's a long story but I swear you don't -- the thing behind us, we--"

As I tripped and panted over every word past my lips, Vee quickly chirped, "Fuck ADVENT."

All six gunmen burst out laughing, though with their weapons still trained on us we didn't mistake it for any sort of friendliness. "Not the best I've ever heard," said the lead, "but it's a good start. Zip tie'em, and double -- no, triple-up on the viper. I don't want her causing any trouble inside."

-Chapter 13-

Our hands tied and all but one of our captors at our backs, our lead slowly walked us towards the makeshift fort. Vee was visibly uncomfortable with how many zip ties they had on her; I could barely even see her wrists beneath all the white plastic. Part of me told me these guys were sort of new at this -- either the resistance bit or the taking prisoners bit, I wasn't exactly sure. They restrained Vee's hands but fully ignored the fact that her entire body was a weapon: a crushing tail, venomous fangs, a tongue more than long enough to wrap around some hapless person's neck. Such inattention seemed interesting to me so I filed it away for later; I realized the skirmishers also hadn't bothered to secure anything other than her hands, but they were trained soldiers in armor whereas these guys were about as plainclothes as could be. Either way I sure as hell wasn't going to warn them. She was clearly trying not to draw attention to herself or these oversights, keeping her profile small and scrunched together as she was prodded along.

Just as when the skirmishers had captured us, Vee was rightfully considered the much larger threat. While I had one person directly behind me with his gun only lazily waving in my general direction, Vee's four escorts were hyper-focused on her, their weapons raised and eyes barely blinking as she scooted along as meekly as a giant intelligent snake could look. I could not ignore the worry that grew inside of me as we approached the fort. Commander Argo had said Vee was liable to be shot on sight; had he judged the resistance too harshly? Or had we gotten lucky once again given how Johnny had sensed no thirst for vengeance in the camp's occupants? Worse still, what if she was being led to slaughter, destined for some bloody operating table to be vivisected and torn apart and--

A quick, whisper-quiet hiss grabbed my attention and Vee just barely shook her head at me before one of her guards told her to knock it off. Had my tension been that easy to see?

We stopped and our lead looked upward. "Open sesame, David."

"What's the password?" an unseen man shouted back.

"We've been outside for five minutes. Open the goddamn door, will you?" A man peered over the rampart of rubbish, hefting what must have been the largest rifle I've ever seen in my life. Satisfied, he disappeared from view again and the rusted doors screeched as as they opened inwardly. "Thank you. Christ above."

More gunmen waited inside, their calm demeanors evaporating in the presence of their newly-captive alien. But beyond them and all throughout the camp was life  -- normal, everyday, bustling human life. Children played around a large central structure around which adults were lined up; the man at the front was given a bowl and a spoon, leading me to believe it was a soup kitchen or something similar. Other, older children were filed into a small trailer against the back wall, a sign above its curtained entrance optimistically proclaiming it to be a school. More people were putting up a second structure directly adjacent to it, nail guns blasting and welders sparking while everybody crowded around to see how it was coming along. Far back on the right was a tent city made up of several rows that I could see, families milling about and chatting like everything was fine and today was just another ordinary day in the neighborhood.

Nobody looked all that unhappy. I could see the wear and tear on their faces and in how they walked or talked, but the overall atmosphere seemed...hopeful. Maybe even happy. Which made sense; the war had just been won, things were looking up. But despite the haphazard living arrangements, despite dirty, ragged clothing and rationed food -- people seemed happy.

"Take him to medical for his arm," said our lead, who I had guessed by now was the boss. Whoever he passed by seemed to drop what they were doing just to listen to him, civilian or soldier. "And get the viper to a cell until we can raise XCOM. Stedeker, go check on the radio mast. I want to know if the fuses are repairable or not. Trent, round up two more guys and get a tarp over that berserker's body in the field but only if we can spare one. I don't want any kids seeing it if they wander onto the second level. Gustav, I want you and Werner--"

"Out of the way! I said move, move! Trying to get by here!" A little olive-skinned woman materialized out of all the people who had gathered to gawk at Vee, pushing her way past the crowd's edge to stomp right up to the boss man while spewing what sounded like Spanish obscenities, if her tone and expression were anything to go by. Animated didn't begin to describe her; as she yelled and shouted, the stethoscope and glasses hanging around her neck jumped up and down as if someone were shaking her. "Damn you Caleb, I told you to bring it right to me! I have eight patients and six of them don't speak a word of English!"

"Good morning to you too, Freddie."

"You, snake!" she shouted at Vee, who seemed more than a little surprised to be addressed so directly. "I'm betting you know English -- Do you know Mandarin? Russian? What about Norwegian?"

Vee hesitated, quickly scanning everybody nearby before opening her mouth. "I understand most of Earth's languages," she said to the gasping surprise of the crowd. "I am fluent in English but I currently cannot speak more than a few words of any others."

"Madre de dios, it talks like a person. Goosebumps, I've got goosebumps," Freddie said, histrionically fanning herself. "I don't care, all the better. And what has happened to this poor man?" she said, examining my messed-up arm. It was still bleeding, though more slowly than before. "Get them both to medical right now. No arguing."

Everybody traded uncomfortable looks, like children watching their parents argue. When their gazes came to rest on Caleb, he smiled and softly laughed as he slipped behind me. A second later and my zip ties were cut, allowing me to try and rub away the soreness. "You heard her. Get them to medical. The viper's zip ties stay on, though."

The giant door behind us groaned as it clattered shut. The crowd parted to either side of main thoroughfare as we were ushered past. Mothers tightly grasped their children against their legs as Vee slithered by, unconcerned with the venomous stares or the odd jeer thrown her way. The path split three ways; to the left, past the school's corner, were more tents and two more trailers, and beside those was a suspiciously nondescript structure about the size of an actual house. The middle path led right into the camp's center, where the soup line had frozen as the cooks and those in line stared at the alien being escorted about. We were sent along the right path, past a staircase that led up to the ramparts from which David, with his massive rifle and the giant scope atop of it, keenly watched us with a moody glare. A few dozen yards past that, Freddie sharply veered right into a long trailer that seemed to follow the curvature of the camp's makeshift walls. One of our escorts nodded towards the door and Vee and I went inside.

Where the rest of the camp seemed shoddy and hastily put together, the medical trailer looked absolutely start of the art as far as I was concerned. Every surface looked immaculate, free of any blemishes or grime -- not even a speck of blood was to be found, which I might've expected in something like a field hospital. Most of the interior was taken up by ten large tubes, eight of which each housed a person. The two empty ones closest to the door had bedding inside and several line hook-ups for drugs or fluids dangling over the side. The bed furthest from us had a man quietly talking and weeping to whomever was inside of it. At the far end of the trailer seemed to be where all of the lab work was done, with three of the same sort of computers I had seen in the abandoned ADVENT building, along with a myriad of medical instruments and gadgets that I had never seen before nor knew anything about.

Most of the patients seemed asleep, but the ones who weren't quickly perked up upon seeing a viper in the room.

"You goons can wait by the door, you're all taking up too much space," Freddie said to our five escorts. I hadn't even realized that Caleb must've peeled away to do something else. I guess it was good that he did because I couldn't imagine another person being able to fit inside this little space. "And you, viper, can start by talking to that gentlemen over there at the furthest bed. Pretty sure he's speaking Norwegian. His daughter keeps having a reaction to something. I need to know if its allergies or an underlying chronic condition so that I can start treating the cause instead of just the symptoms. Hop to it -- or crawl or slither. Whatever."

She grunted before going to tap the man on the shoulder. He turned and sat stock-still in fear, only relaxing when seeing how nobody else was too alarmed. "Sir, talk. Do you understand me? Talk," she slowly said, using her hands to imitate a moving mouth. "Talk, see? Talk to snake."

Vee slipped by to approach him, and then Freddie grabbed me by my uninjured arm and led me to the lab area. She began to hurriedly rifle through several drawers, and I saw how disorganized everything was despite the pristine appearance and cutting-edge equipment. She mumbled something in Spanish and began to search through the cabinets, all the while her volume slowly rose alongside her frustration. Her souring mood lightened immediately when she found what she had been looking for; she pulled some gauze, two rolls of bandages, and two bottles of clear liquid, the labels indicating one was a saline flush and the other was alcohol. My arm was already beginning to sting at the mere thought of what was about to happen.

"Give me your arm, sweetheart. And try not to scream. Everybody here needs as much rest as they can get."

She took up some of the saline in a syringe then gently squirted it into my wounds, flushing out the dirt and and debris deposited inside by my run through the woods. It mildly stung from little else but the force of the stream; I was positively dreading the alcohol before she was even done with the saline. I swore I could already feel the stinging as I watched her draw up a second syringeful.

"What's your name, baby?"

"Liam. How'd you get yours? Freddie is kind of masculine."

"It's short for Frederika. Everybody called me that before my now-husband started calling me Freddie."

"You mean Caleb?" I said, pausing to listen in vain to what sounded like some angry words behind me that I could only guess were Norwegian. I hoped Vee was doing all right. "The guy that captured us?"

"Good guess," Freddie said with a smile, dabbing the extra blood and flush from my arm with a piece of gauze. "Was it that obvious?"

"The way he smiled at you while you were shouting at him of reminded me of my parents." Arguments were a part of any relationship, whether it was platonic, professional, romantic, or anything in between. Both my mom and my dad always took on this detached little grin that the other absolutely hated, mostly because it was usually such a quick defusal of whatever was bothering the other. The anger was quickly overpowered by a quick laugh, however forced, and the lightened atmosphere afterward was more conducive to talking. I guess what mattered more than the argument itself was the ability for either side to move past it at worst or compromise at best. My parents were good at the latter. Me and my brother -- not so much. I didn't recall many of our shouting matches. The few I could seemed so petty now.

Freddie watched me flinch as she drew up some of the alcohol, her features softening. "You want to bite down on something? I have some clean rags."

"Just do it."

The moment the first drops hit those bleeding gashes carved into me by Vee's claws, my world went blank. My entire arm felt as if I'd dipped it in acid, and I grimaced and squinted so hard I saw spots in my eyes, all the while my jaw clenched so tightly I thought I was going to shatter my own teeth. I couldn't stop all of the sounds that rose up from my chest, but I guess I kept quiet enough if Freddie wasn't telling me to shush. Every time she reapplied the fiery liquid the pain began anew, sometimes more intense, sometimes less -- if only barely. I kept as still and as quiet as possible for as long as I could. I asked for a break just once, then realized as my flesh still burned that it would only end the sooner she was able to finish. Though through the torment, I took the quick respite to ask her something that had been bothering me.

"Why were you so surprised she could speak?" I said, throwing my head back to motion at Vee. "How would she have been able to interpret for you otherwise?"

"I know they speak," she said. "I used to live in one of their cities. I never heard one speak one word of English even though everybody knew they understood it. All we ever heard was the ADVENT tongue and hissing. I was expecting it to speak ADVENT, which I also know. Almost everybody in this camp speaks ADVENT. They taught it in the schools and it was practically a job requirement. Don't you know all of this?"

I found it in myself to laugh in spite of my arm. "It's sort of a long story."

Fifteen or twenty minutes of mostly silent agony later, she was nearly done. She wound the tan bandages up and down, spiraling the roll around my arm until I was left with a thick layer of them. Even so, a few spots appeared to darken from the blood still seeping from beneath. "It's the best we can do," she said. "We'll have to change them as they get more and more soiled."

A long string of slowly-spoken words from Vee seemed to remind Freddie that she was there. "All right then, snake. What's the deal? Get anything out of him?"

"He says his daughter has a shellfish allergy. She has no other health concerns, though breast cancer does run in the family on her mother's side. Both afflictions are still risk factors because they never visited a gene clinic."

"Her symptoms are consistent with an allergic reaction, as were her last visits to the infirmary. It also explains her improvement with steroid injections. That makes no sense though -- it's not as if the kitchen is serving surf and turf."

"What if it's coming from the river?" I said, earning a contemplative stare from them and the guards. Even the Norwegian gentleman looked at me like he understood what I was saying. "Is somebody sneaking out to grab something from the river? Maybe they're not washing utensils or bowls or plates well enough or at all. Maybe the kid doesn't know any better, or doesn't know what a piece of crayfish looks like with no shell on it and decided to try a bite."

Freddie nodded as I spoke, wagging a finger at me like I was on to something. "I like that. It's the only water source nearby. I'll have David add another watch to the quadrant that overlooks the river's direction. We don't have any any epinephrine so once she's recovered, I'll have to send the father home with some pre-dosed corticosteroid syringes. Explain to him what we think is happening and if she has another reaction, tell him to stick her in the thigh or buttock before bringing her right back here. When you're done," she said, flicking her hand at Vee to tell her to move along, "move onto the next patient."

With the news of his daughter's treatment, the father was very appreciative and surprised everyone by springing up to shake Vee's hand. He was sheepish afterwards, like he suddenly realized that Vee was still the enemy to him, or that he shouldn't have touched her without asking, or something else had bothered bothering him. He backed away and instead clasped his hands together while continuously dipping into a shallow bow, uttering what I could only guess was Norwegian for 'thank you'.

Vee was left stunned for more than a moment but quickly moved on to the other patients. She rapidly picked up on Mandarin with its lack of harsh sounds. I swore I could also hear what sounded like repeats of the same word but with different tones, and I wondered if she felt a little more in her element then, since I imagined hissing must have a limited vocabulary and rely primarily on inflections. Russian was a different ball game entirely for her. It was clear she struggled at first, which meant I didn't have a single clue; I couldn't even tell when one word was separated from another. Where Mandarin took her a little over twenty minutes to start talking back in simple phrases, Russian took her just over an hour. The last two patients spoke in Arabic, and I humorously guessed they were brothers based on how argumentative they seemed with one another. Unable to get a word in edgewise or even understand one at all, Vee frustratedly flared her hood with a low, threatening hiss to get them both to quiet down, which put our guards just a little more on edge. She addressed each brother one at a time after they fell silent.

Within two hours, Freddie had patient histories and treatments all lined up thanks to Vee. Though her translations were hasty and sloppy at first, she seemed more than confident in her newfound conversational skills. That was good enough for Freddie.

"Thank you," she said, clearly struggling to get the words out. Pleasantries towards a former enemy must have felt weird for her. She barely acknowledged our guards and said, "You can have them now, but I want Liam back here before lights out to change his bandages." She curtly spun around to run another lab, leaving me disappointed that no special consideration was given for Vee. She had just helped the good doctor get eight people back on their feet -- how about asking nobody hurts her for her trouble?

Our escorts walked us out and through the streets again, for lack of a better term. They seemed wide enough to fit a car. The crowd had almost entirely dispersed by now and only a few people even bothered to spare Vee a glance as we walked by. It all felt so out of place to me. The first time I had seen her with no gun in my hands I had been terrified, scared at first to move even a single muscle. But here, nobody seemed to mind. Kids still played in the grass. Adults still went about their daily tasks. She wasn't anything to be outright feared as far as these people were concerned. She was a former occupier, someone that they had lived beside for the last twenty years. That was the moment I realized that this was just everyday life for them. What Commander Argo had said came back to me: aliens had been inserted at all levels of society. They were doctors, nurses, teachers, neighbors. For as much as humanity as a whole resented the Elders now, their plan had undeniably worked. Sure, Vee was mostly restrained, but she was still an intelligent, half-humanoid, half-snake with a host of deadly abilities -- and nobody really cared as we walked by. It was business as usual.

After passing by the central plaza we ended up rather close to the conspicuously inconspicuous building from before. Attached to the side was something that I could only call a shack, looking about the size of my old chicken coop. The front door opened immediately into a long corridor of identical rooms on the left and right-hand sides, blocked off by heavy-looking metal doors and the entire hallway dimly lit by a left-right alternating pattern of small, yellow floodlights. How they had gotten all of this up in two days astounded me. Every single person in this camp must have pitched in. Buildings that looked as though they should've taken days probably went up in mere hours. At the far end of the corridor was a single room lit brightly white. Caleb was waiting inside with a cup in his hands, looking oddly carefree as I was not-so-gently forced into a seat and Vee was left alone to lie within her coils.

"So," he said, taking a long, noisy slurp of whatever steaming substance he had in his mug, "what brings you both to our little neck of the woods?"

I was acutely aware of how my last interrogation had went. Vee had kept silent whereas I had cracked immediately under the unyielding glare of the skirmishers. I wouldn't make that mistake twice and decided to keep my lips sealed. Vee wasn't too eager to talk either.

Caleb rolled his eyes, setting his mug down to pinch and rub the bridge of his nose. "Look, this isn't some kind of interrogation. I mean -- it is, but it's not like you're prisoners or -- okay, hang on," he said, looking a little disappointed in himself as he kept talking. "I guess you guys are prisoners at the moment, but I'm not trying to -- to pump you for info like troop movements or passcodes. I don't have anybody waiting around the corner with a car battery and jumper cables or some other nutcase garbage. I'm the leader of this camp -- Caleb McCullen, by the way, nice to meet you -- and my people expect me to keep them safe. I just want to know where you came from, where you're going, and why you decided to pass through here. Oh, and also why you brought a berserker to our front door. Especially that last part; that wasn't very safe."

He paused, considering what he had said and looking as if he was reading his own words on the table. "I'm also more than a little curious," he muttered, turning his gaze upward to meet mine, "to find out why one of ours is travelling with one of theirs."

"She's not one of theirs," I blurted out, realizing and then immediately not caring that I had cracked yet again. Vee glanced at me only to acknowledge I was speaking; she didn't try to stop or silence me, and in light of barely a hint of a smile at the corner of her lips, I kept talking. "She's nobody's, all right? Nobody's pulling her strings. Like she said, fuck ADVENT."

Caleb loosed a low chuckle that slowly turned into a jaunty little hum, a tune that I hadn't heard since I was a kid.

"Pinocchio," I said, immediately grabbing his attention and causing his humming to stop. He looked a little unsure of what I had said -- or maybe it was disbelief. "You're humming the song from Pinocchio. 'I've got no strings to hold me down -- uh, something, something -- but now I'm free, there are no strings on me'."

His jaw hung open. He reached up as if to close it but paused his hand only to idly scratch at the salt-and-pepper stubble across his face. He was silent for a little longer but the smile edging its way across his face made said more than he may have meant to in that moment. "You don't look all that old, man. There's no way you should know that tune. ADVENT banned that film when they took over, along with about a billion others."

"Yeah, but it was on VHS along with every other movie they put out. Then my parents started buying up the DVDs once those took off."

"Holy shit, the kid knows what a VHS is," he said to the guards in his continued amazement. By then I figured out I had just dated myself but Vee wasn't glaring at me or trying to squeeze my leg beneath the table, so I figured she didn't mind me talking to Caleb. "I've got to be honest man, I had you pegged for late twenties at the most. How old are you really?"

"Thirty-seven. You?"

"No shit. I'm fifty-three. Favorite movie?"

"Favorite? That's a tough one but I can tell you 'Men in Black', 'The Fifth Element', and 'The Matrix' would be in the running."

"A sci-fi lover, huh? Still can't believe how much of that ADVENT banned once they took over. Nothing that showed any aliens in an negative light was ever allowed. What about music? What's your favorite album?"

"'Back in Black', AC/DC."

"Shut up," he said with a burst of rowdy laughter.

"No joke. Dad was a metalhead so my brother and I picked up on it," I said, pointing to the Megadeth shirt Vee was wearing. "That was one of my brother's shirts."

"Where is your brother? And your folks, for that matter."

At this point I figured it was impossible to avoid retelling my whole story yet again. I was certainly tiring of repeating it to everybody who happened to cross our path, though I went through it again nonetheless. Vee was focused on Caleb the entire time, perhaps trying to discern any hints of motivations or further personality quirks as he sat and intently listened while periodically taking long sips from his mug. He only barely lifted his eyebrows when told about how I had lost the house. For every part of my story afterward he went back to his normally placid demeanor. I felt...compelled to omit some pertinent information regarding Penny.

"Yeah, jumping to conclusions never ends well for anybody," Caleb grumbled with regards to the men who had made me homeless, setting his empty cup onto the metal table. "Kind of reminds me of what happened to my old town. Old, old friend I had known for years was the local ADVENT recruiter -- I didn't hold it against him, they were probably lying to him as much as they were to us. But XCOM showed everybody what was really happening behind the scenes and people went nuts. I tried to save him but by the time I got to the office they had already dragged him into the street and were ripping him apart. I couldn't even recognize him when the crowd finally dispersed."

A heavy knock rattled the door and whoever was on the other side didn't wait for permission to enter. It swung open and the man that had been carrying the huge rifle from earlier walked through, Vee's hiking pack in his left hand and my backpack in his right. If I recalled correctly, his name was David. He wore some netting across his head and shoulders, the dead leaves and reeds woven through it hiding the brim of his hat and making him seem a little bulkier than the rest of him actually was.

"We got the bags," he said, hefting them onto the table. Mine popped open and had been so tightly packed that most of its contents just spilled out across half the table. David quickly rifled through it and excitedly seized on the nearly-empty pack of cigarettes Eric had left inside.

"Hey!" Caleb hissed, a growing scowl on his face. "This isn't your stuff. Put it back."

"Come on, it's just a couple of smokes. It's been days since I've gotten to light up."

The room suddenly felt crowded in the ensuing silence, like two egos were now trying to squeeze out everybody else. Even the door guards felt it, suddenly standing just a little straighter and their eyes jumping from one man to the other. When Caleb spoke again, his voice was low and decidedly tense -- certainly more than when he had spoken to me or Vee. "I'm not kidding, David. This isn't some eminent domain-type nonsense. Put it back."

David paused to think for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip. He looked at me with what could only have been disgust which shifted into unmistakable contempt as his gaze fell upon Vee. He clicked his tongue and threw the smokes back onto the table before curtly leaving. The pack skidded to a stop, nearly going over the edge of the table before Caleb caught it. He gingerly placed it atop my pile of things before nodding at the guards with a drained expression and equally tired sigh.

"I'm not worried about these two," he said to them, nonchalantly waving his hand at us. "Go keep David from getting into trouble. I don't want to hear him letting some rounds off for stress relief." One by one they filed out the door, with only the last one out throwing a worried look over his shoulder. He only shrugged and closed the door behind him, leaving just the three of us together.

"I'm sorry about that," said Caleb, trying to make my pile of things look a little less messy. "The young guys are all passion and action but not a lot of sense. David's seen more fight than anybody else here -- he may as well have been born with a gun in his hands, but I know how to keep a community together. Needless to say he and I butt heads too much."

"Is he the one that killed the berseker? With that giant rifle he's got?"

"Yeah, that was him. Which conveniently brings us back around to one of my original questions: why were you leading that monster right towards us? David was watching it all happen through his scope. You guys took a sharp turn and made a beeline for us with that thing chasing you down. Things could have gotten real ugly if it had reached our front door."

"The scent of gunpowder from the camp was thick and heavy," Vee said. "I made a call -- an educated guess, humans may say. I guessed there were many guns behind the walls of your camp. I was right, even if one did suffice."

"It was quite a gamble. He was going to drop you just the same," he said before pointing at me, "but hero here blocked the shot. That's when I made a call. A human willing to take a bullet for an alien is somebody I want to talk to. David dropped the 'zerker, we snagged you two, and here we are." He stood and started to root around all of our things on the table, neatly placing it all in rows or groups like he was mentally cataloging everything he saw. On one half of the table were Vee's things: the hiking pack, sleeping bag, the clothing, first aid kits, some ammunition, a mostly empty canteen, c-sticks, and her rifle sans magazine. On the other half of the table were my things: the backpack, clothing and blankets, an empty canteen, c-sticks, some loose shells for my shotgun, the unloaded pistol, and the plastic baggie full of jerky. But something on Vee's half of the table caught his eye again and he shoved some of the clothing away to reveal a little white box underneath, complete with a set of earphones.

"I'll be damned," Caleb said as my nausea grew. I stole a sidelong glance at Vee which she shamefully turned away from. "This thing is absolutely ancient. An actual, original, honest-to-god iPod. And -- holy hell, it still works! Look at all of this! Frank Sinatra, Pink Floyd, Queen -- you got any idea what people would give for this? Where'd you get this?"

"That," I said, trying to hardest to sound as normal as possible, "was from Penny."

"How on Earth did you get her to part with it?"

Vee jumped in the moment she heard me swallow the lump in my throat. "It was a reward for helping kill the chryssalids."

I wanted so badly for him to ask for it, to offer something in trade, anything to take it off her hands and away from me. Giving it away might have raised a few more questions that may have given rise to a few more lies, and the more of those there are floating around the harder it is to keep stories straight. But he just marveled at it for a little while, scrolling through the interface and holding an earbud up to listen and bob his head for a minute before putting it back.

"So you guys really are packed for a hell of a trip. I'm really sorry to have to tell you this, but--"

A sudden knock at the door commanded everyone's attention, and just like last time, whoever was on the other side didn't bother waiting for permission before entering. One of our original captors burst through looking more than a little frantic and panting like he just sprinted from one end of the camp to the other.

"Stedeker? Take a breather, buddy. What's got you so worked up?"

"Radio mast is up but we can only receive for the time being. XCOM is code-casting on all bands. You might want to come listen to this."

"All right," Caleb said as he slowly rose to his feet like an achy old man. "Sorry to cut this short you two, but duty calls. Liam, we can get you set up in a temporary tent but Vee stays in one of the cells here. That's final."

I couldn't find any reason to argue with him but all I could imagine was somebody making her disappear while I wasn't around. I'd be minding my own business, maybe standing in the food line or being forced to help build something, and then there'd just be some random, unexplained gunshot. I wasn't about to let that happen. I wasn't sure what good I could do to defend her that she couldn't do herself, but damned if I wasn't going to try.

"Put me in a cell with her." Vee's head snapped around so quick I thought I heard the joints popping like knuckles. Caleb looked at me like I was nuts but I didn't care.

"Why would you -- you know what? That's fine. I don't care." He walked us out to the main corridor and showed us to our new, hopefully temporary home. It was cramped enough that I regretted my decision only for a moment, but being uncomfortable was worth staying with Vee; the room was maybe twice my shoulder width and twice as tall as me and appeared only deep enough to just barely fit us both. The walls and floor were cold to the touch and the only a pitifully little bit of the yellow light in the hallway managed to creep in through the door's viewport. I invited Vee in ahead of me; if they were going to try and grab her while we slept, they'd have to get past me first as I was resting against the door. She settled at the far end, putting as much of her body beneath her as she could, but some of her spilled out towards me. When the door closed behind us and Caleb's voice began to fade, she took a moment to wriggle her tail up between her wrists, slowly working more and more of it through the little gaps between zip ties. Three quick pops and all three snapped right off with barely any effort. She sat back and lifted her tail for me to sit down, after which she laid it across my lap. Before getting as comfortable as she could, she leaned over and took my hand in hers while using the other to poke and prod my bandaged arm. Alongside the stinging pain, small specks of red welled up through the material where she pressed too hard. She used a claw to firmly poke different points of my palm, eliciting a twitch every time.

"When," I began, waiting to hear two sets of footsteps exit the jail, "did you take her iPod? Why?"

I could only just see her features in the weak light from the corridor, how she shrunk away from me with a softened expression. "When we buried her that night -- you turned away while I searched for anything useful. I'm sorry. You just -- you looked so happy while listening to it before."

Her admission may as well have been a slap across my face. I had to admit I hadn't thought about my own happiness in years. Every day for years and years had just been waking up and going through the motions, doing nothing else other than ensuring my continued survival. I never considered hobbies or pastimes. Every free moment I had back then was just spent on the couch, the television on even if I wasn't paying attention to it, thinking about what I was going to do the next day. And the day after that, and the one after that, and so on.

To have someone else try to make me happy after having known me for so short a time -- it just didn't compute.

"I'm sorry," she said again to fill in the silence.

"I'm not mad, Vee. In fact -- thanks. For thinking about me, I mean. But I'm not sure if I'll ever listen to it again."

"I understand. It will be waiting for you when you're ready."

"If they ever give us our stuff back." I could just barely see her frown, then look away like she was trying to hide it. "What?"

"They're not going to let me go."

I had heard such a thought drifting aimlessly in the back of my mind, my subconscious doing everything it could to swat it away like some bothersome insect or incessant itch. With it at the forefront of my mind, however, a yawning chasm opened up at the bottom of my stomach that threatened to swallow up everything else inside of me. Even if Caleb believed my entire story, he had no guarantees she wasn't still an enemy combatant. He was the leader of a brand new refugee camp that as far as I could possibly know only appeared on resistance maps. What if, he might think, Vee was simply scouting? What if travelling with the human was only a cover, and she was plotting and reporting refugee movements and resistance positions?

"What was waiting for you in City 31?" She looked up again to meet my gaze, and through her eyes I thought I could see the question bouncing around inside her head. "What would you have done?"

"I don't know. I hadn't considered much beyond the thought of sanctuary. I sometimes imagine what it would be like to live as one of the humans I used to see on my patrols during my city deployments. They wake up, feed and ready themselves, and leave for work. Then they come home and relax. I could see the glow of televisions through windows, or they would be talking on the vidscreens to family or friends. I don't know what kind of work I would do or what might relax me upon returning home, but -- it was just something I wanted to try since being released from the Elders. A normal life, whatever that encompassed."

Her eyes narrowed and her hood flattened out when I couldn't keep my giggling quiet any longer. "What?" she hissed.

"I'm just trying to think about what you'd do for work," I said, waiting for the laughter to pass. "I was thinking -- you'd be a hell of a chiropractor. Somebody comes in with some cramps and aches, you give'em a light squeeze and everything pops back into place. You knew right away how to fix my shoulder. Oh, or a plumber! Tight spaces don't bother you and it seems like you can fit everywhere. Remember when you were crawling through the wreckage of my basement? You'd be right at home in a crawl space putting pipes together. Hell, you could probably dance if you wanted to!"

"Dance?" she managed to say between that stuttering hiss of a laugh of hers. "I don't think anybody could do that without legs."

"Nonsense. The way you move, it's like liquid, like you -- like you, uh..."

My train of thought had just derailed, and I could only wish it had been as noisy as the actual catastrophe to distract Vee and myself from how markedly silent I had suddenly become. My mind swam with recollections from our journey so far, trivial little moments lost in the tumult of heart-stopping terror and life-or-death situations. And though I recognized them -- hit-or-miss jokes, describing insects or animals she hadn't seen before, chats about pre-invasion Earth -- I didn't remember seeing her then as my memory saw her now. She was less alien to me and settling more into being simply different. How her tail always seemed to effortlessly flow to and fro, hips that almost never stopped moving, and a willowy, gently swaying body that made it seem like she was always just enjoying the breeze. Large, brilliant crimson eyes that seemed so much more expressive than when I had first met her, a close-lipped smile that played a little further across her face each day--

"Liam."

I swallowed down whatever tension I could and buried some odd questions deep, deep down where they might not show themselves for a while. "I was meaning -- I mean, I was saying that these skills you've got, these things ADVENT put into your head -- they can be used for other things. You could help people, you could build homes, you could interpret and bring people together, like you did earlier. Like I said way back when, whatever is inside your head is always going to be there but you can use it however you want now. You don't have to fight anymore."

Her shoulders sagged and she seemed to slide more and more into her coils as she loosed a long sigh. Tightly packed as we were, the tip of her tail began to slowly wrap around one of my ankles as she seemed to spread outward like a puddle. "That's the second time you've said that," she whispered, "and it still feels just as amazing to hear."

"I can say it a ton more but it's going to cost you."

She arched one scaley brow and said, "Cost me what?"

"Your portion of whatever jerky we've got left."

She laughed harder than I'd ever heard before, her body shaking and every inch of her tail drawn inward as though she were gathering herself up. The lone coil around my ankle constricted just a little more tightly as well and seemed to drag me towards her by a couple of inches. "I don't need to hear it that badly," she finally managed to say. "What would you do in City 31?"

I hadn't considered the question once despite knowing from day one it would be our endpoint. "Hell if I know. I guess the same as you -- find a job and a place to stay. What would a job in a post-invasion world even look like? I barely knew what one looked like in the old world."

"We could stay together, couldn't we? Just like your old home. If you wanted to."

My heart began to race for reasons I did not fully comprehend. Finding a place to live was something I always imagined doing with a college sweetheart, both of us chasing jobs in the city that would see us pounding away on keyboards in cubicles like drones. But it would pull in a paycheck, enough to support ourselves, our lifestyle, our own little slice of the world. To take the framework of that old, now unobtainable life and lay it over onto this new world felt strangely easy, and the thought of starting a relatively normal life again brought a smile to my face.

"Yeah, that -- that would be nice, wouldn't it?"

A door slammed and we both quieted down in an instant as a set of footsteps slowly approached. A body stopped in front of the slot in the door, blocking out what little light we had and shrouding us in total darkness. A voice I didn't know said something I couldn't quite make out, but I did recognize the voice of the person in front of our cell, who replied that he would be fine.

"I imagine you two aren't too comfy in there," he said.

"What do you want, Caleb?"

"No need for the tone, pal. Come on, I'm trying to do right by you and believe it or not, I'm trying to do right for you scaley friend as well. I don't think for one second an alien would value even a collaborator's life, nor have I ever seen a human so thoroughly brainwashed that they'd take a bullet for an alien. But here's the facts: Vee's an apparent ex-soldier from a regime responsible for a staggering amount of human death. As much as I want to believe you, I am not the sole shot-caller here, and with no guarantees of where she came from or where she's going, nobody wants to let her go. Once the chance arises, we're handing her over to XCOM."

"Of fuckin' course," I muttered. Vee had called it, as usual. She read everybody so easily, like we were all just giant, neon signs.

"I'm not done, man. Here's what's going down: XCOM needs all active and transport-capable resistance within a hundred miles of an old resupply point up north to converge on said point. We're within that radius, if only barely, but everybody here has just settled in and I'm not about to send every fighter I've got into the meat grinder for some old world spooks who keep everything to themselves on a need-to-know basis. Even half of my guys is too many but I've got to send something. Now, Liam, I'm offering you the chance to walk away no strings attached, but given how you seem connected at the hip to her, I doubt you'll take it."

"Good guess."

"So here's the only offer I can make to you, Vee: fight for us. Help us out and things could change."

I couldn't see her at all, but I could hear her thinking. I could hear her Megadeth shirt rustling as she crossed her arms over her chest. I could hear and feel her tail sliding ever so slowly against the cold, hard floor as she drew it in. Even her breathing was different. "What if they don't?" she said.

"I don't think I need to tell you how hectic battle can be. When the battle's nearly over, maybe I lose sight of you and Liam in the chaos. Maybe you guys are MIA or vaporized or blown to a million unrecognizable chunks and everybody just forgets about you. I can't let you go from here, but out there? Anything's possible. We're mobilizing early morning tomorrow and I don't know when I'll get another chance alone with you. I need an answer."

I wanted so badly to laugh at the irony, the universe's sheer comedic timing of telling her that she would in fact have to fight again. Caleb's offer hit me hard, like his words had just kicked my knees out from under me. All that breath spent telling her she didn't have to fight -- wasted. And I knew her well enough that her answer was as forgone a conclusion as any. No matter how small the chance at freedom was, she would take it. After all, anything worth having--

"Anything worth having," she said, slipping the tip of her tail around my ankle once again, "is worth fighting for. I'll fight but I cannot speak for Liam."

"Of course I'll--"

Her grip on me tightened nearly to a crush. "If XCOM is requesting such numbers then this is going to be a real fight, Liam. Unlike anything you've ever experienced before. We most likely will not be up against such mindless things as chryssalids or berserkers. Please think about this. I will never tell you that you cannot fight, but please -- think very hard."

"There's nothing for me to think about, Vee," I said, fumbling for a moment in the dark to find and gently pat her tail still wrapped around my ankle. "We're in this together, aren't we?"

"You two are real fuckin' weird," said Caleb. "Like, for real. If nobody's said it then I'll be the first, I don't care. Just -- just weird."

"One more condition," Vee said. A tiny wet sound, like a drop of water, told me that her tongue had slipped past her lips to taste the air.

"Name it."

"There's a bag of jerky on the table with our belongings. Toss it in here."

-Chapter 14-

I remembered being woken more by my anxiety than by Penny at several points during the night. Sleep-addled and with my vision still fuzzy, I would only drift off again once realizing the weight still draped across my lap was Vee's tail, or after hearing her take a few slow, slumberous breaths.

The door behind me shook violently despite how heavy it was; someone was pounding on the other side heavily enough to knock me out my sleep for good. I wiped the grit from my eyes to find Vee already up and wide awake, her tail and coils shifting around as she attempted to stretch as much as she could in the little cell we occupied. A moment later and I felt her hands around my arm, poking and rubbing across the new bandages Freddie had given me last night. The pain had since reduced to little more than a dull ache, though just thinking about the alcohol wash made it start to sting again.

"Mostly dry," Vee said. "That's good."

"Wakey-wakey, my new friends." It was Caleb. He stopped slamming his fist into the door after I let go of a tired groan. "Watch yourself, I'm opening the door."

The support at my back fell away and light flooded in. Vee rose from her coils, offering me a hand up as I slowly got my bearings while stretching and yawning. Caleb's eyes fell to her unrestrained hands and he threw out a dismissive laugh.

"I figured as much. I won't bother putting them back on but do not leave my side, understand?" She nodded, folding her hands together low in front. "Good. We're airborne in twenty minutes. Follow me."

"Airborne?" I repeated to my own confusion, still trying to shake away the last holds sleep had on me.

"Don't worry about it," Caleb said, leading us to the interrogation room we had been in last night. Inside, all of our things were packed away. Despite the care taken with our belongings, I still felt compelled to check mine over. "Don't worry, it's all there -- even your smokes and iPod. We can give you your weapons back if you want, but we can replace them with better ones." I thrust my hand in to feel around at the bottom, beneath the blanket and clothing. Sure enough, everything was there. Vee checked hers over as well, though as quickly as she was done it seemed she only checked for one thing. I didn't know what. We did both partake in some breakfast, however; I was starting to tire of c-sticks and their blandness and chewy texture.

"Better ones would be good," Vee said. Something like disappointment welled up inside of me -- my shotgun was no family heirloom but it had still passed from my father's hands to my brother's, then to mine. Before saying anything I thought for a moment and decided that was a strange thing to grow attached to. Not to mention we were presumably headed to a battlefield soon; sentimentality was not high on the list of priorities. If a better weapon would give Vee and me a better chance at making it to City 31, then better weapons we should have.

"Okay then," he said, keeping watchful eye on Vee as we slung our packs over our shoulders. "The armory is on the way. We'll grab some gear for you both and be out of here in a flash."

An escort was waiting down the corridor, holding the door open for us as we approached. Things outside seemed to be business as usual. Kids were still playing, the school had people coming and going, and the kitchen still had a line of hungry refugees going up to it. At a glance, I don't think I would have been able to tell that an offensive was about to take place. Until we rounded the corner of the house-sized building our jail was attached to and saw the line of men and women waiting to get inside. A few looked our way with some disgusted faces or a glazed indifference in their eyes. At the front of the line just inside was David, handing out the gear as each soldier stepped up. In all I counted twenty individuals. Caleb cleared his throat to grab everybody's attention. he only had to do it once.

"Some of you already know, but for any new volunteers that sprung up between last night and now -- this is Liam and the snake is Vee. Both will be assisting us in this push," he said, ignoring the handful of anguished moans and surprised gasps. "We're hard-up for experienced guns here at camp and the more defenders I can leave here, the better. She will be attached to me personally and will be fighting alongside us. If anybody takes issue with that, get out of line now."

"What the fuck man, why's a viper got to be at our backs?"

"Are you nuts? We've already got enough people, we sure don't need that that thing."

"It's just going to shoot us in the back! You can't trust any of ADVENT's drones." Vee practically bristled at that last one, standing a little straighter and flaring her hood with a short, angry hiss.

"I said," Caleb shouted over the cacophony of suspicion, not-so-gently quelling anymore outbursts, "if anybody has a problem then get the hell out of line." Surprisingly nobody left, though their displeasure seemed frozen upon their faces.

We fell into the back of the line with Caleb behind us both. At the front was a small booth; each person stepped up, had a gun I'd never seen before handed to them, then disappeared into the building. Every so often David would glance down the line at us, and I couldn't tell if he was trying intimidate Vee or what but his look was the definition of unfriendly. Beyond his angry visage, I thought I could hear a truck or something idling inside, along with something a little higher-pitched that I couldn't fully recognize. My best guess was a turbine's whine and I thought then this might be some sort of portable powerplant. But why then would we be lining up in front of it?

Before long we were the last ones up. David hesitated, shifting his angry look from us to Caleb, who said, "Weapons please, if you would."

David grunted, taking a moment to angrily wipe his hand across his mouth. He grabbed a gray-and-black rifle from the racks behind him, something whose shape reminded me of an AR-15 type gun but it looked bulkier and a little larger overall. Despite that, it wasn't as heavy as I was expecting when it fell into my hands.

"I didn't think it would be so light."

"Made from polymers and hardened plastics out of a fabricator. It's been the workhorse of the resistance for years," David growled, reluctantly handing a gun to Vee that was a bit more compact than my new rifle. "I'll bet you would know that. I'm sure the things have spit more than a few rounds in your direction. Nice hole in your hood, by the way," he said to her as she tucked the gun to her shoulder, testing its ergonomics and pouring over its features. She did not bother replying with anything besides a cold glare which he returned in kind.

"You know how to use that, new guy?" David said to me, no doubt watching me figuring out how my weapon worked. Most of the important parts looked familiar thanks to considerate amount of video games during my younger years. Odd to see that firearms haven't really changed too much since then.

"I think so. Charging handle, magazine release, selector switch, forward assist, and, uh -- bolt catch."

"Battlefield or Call of Duty?" Caleb asked as he grabbed his own gun from the booth.

"Call of Duty," I said. He and I shared a laugh while David and Vee looked on completely clueless. Before their time I suppose, and I suddenly felt much, much older than I was. That little burst of levity disappeared the moment we were led further inside the building and suddenly had all eyes focused on us, and I felt every gaze pricking my skin like needles. Behind our not-so-friendly allies was a vehicle I had only seen before on television. It was a fat, boxy thing with a mean, red glare at the front that reminded me of an ADVENT trooper's helmet. A large, flat, rectangular wing was attached at each corner, the bottom edge of which ominously glowed crimson and seemed to constantly shift the low-hanging clouds of dust it illuminated.

"I hope your pilot has had practice," Vee said to Caleb.

"Where'd you guys get an ADVENT airship?" I asked.

"Liberated from a staging area a month ago. It's served us pretty well since then; don't ever have to worry about fuel either because it runs on an elerium core. If you ever hear anybody say 'skeeter' or 'mosquito', they're talking about the ship. It whines like one once the engines spool, just before the throttle opens up." Caleb trotted ahead and grabbed a harness of some sort off the back wall of what I now could tell was a hangar; an irregular seam directly above us, through which sunrise peeked in, was where the two halves of the roof would split away to reveal the sky. When I saw Caleb again, he was coming back towards us with a pair of harnesses sporting a bevy of pouches which already looked heavily packed; he wore one himself. I could tell the pouches held magazines for our weapons but I couldn't make heads or tails of the rest of it. Vee took hers and slid it over her hood and body immediately, clasping buckles and cinching them tight without a moment's hesitation. The shoulders and the strap across her breasts made it look like a giant letter 'H', save for the loop that she tightened around her waist. I was still struggling with mine by the time she was done.

"Stop," she said, slightly shaking her head with an amused look. "Turn around." She slid it down over me and directed my arms where they were supposed to be, buckling and tightening as she went. Lastly she drew the two halves of the final strap across my chest and connected them, pulling them taut and giving everything one last tug to make sure it was all secure.

"How do I look?"

"Like a soldier," she said, her tone dipping low in disappointment. I had half a mind keep talking before I remembered everybody was watching us. The little pinpricks I felt in their gazes graduated to full on daggers.

Caleb cleared his throat again, pausing to let his echo dissipate. "Just in case it wasn't clear before, Vee's with us for this op. I don't want to hear another word or gripe about it or so help me, I'll push you out of the ship in midair. A viper's worth three men at least, so that's three more defenders I can leave here on the wall. If anybody really wants me to keep her here, let me know so I can pull more people away from watching your families while we're out." Predictably, nobody said a word. "Good. Now here's the shitty news: I have no idea what XCOM's plans are beyond the obvious. ADVENT's got something, XCOM wants it back. In this case it's an old commercial park that used to act as a resupply point for resistance cells. I don't know who's meeting us there, I don't know what support XCOM is sending, if any, and I don't know what sort of opposition we'll be up against. I think you all know by now what XCOM is: old world spooks who never show their hand. Well, they're living up to expectations so don't whine and cry at me, okay? Everybody mount up, and don't let me catch you carrying on about having to stand next to the snake. Space is tight."

One by one everybody filed onto the aircraft, grabbing onto the overhead handholds and filling out the red-lit interior with three rows. Caleb purposefully pushed us into the middle row, surrounded on all sides by other bodies. I hazarded a guess that maybe he was scared somebody would try to push Vee out but that thought disappeared as doors on either side of the compartment began to come down and shut us in. Still, someone had found the courage to physically express their displeasure with Vee's presence; she hissed loudly enough to startle everybody aboard. When I spun around to look, she had the tip of her tail in her hands, meticulously massaging it as she angrily looked around while somebody in the crowd chuckled to themselves.

"Somebody step on you?" She nodded without looking up. There wasn't much space for her to stretch out her tail. Somebody was bound to do it again. "Just wrap yourself around me."

She settled in very close to me -- close enough for me to feel her breath on the nape of my neck and her body pushing against mine -- and gently coiled as much of her tail as she could around me, starting at my ankles. It wound up and up in a tight spiral that had me standing a little straighter than before, and stopped just before reaching my groin. Somebody grumbled that I was freak, much to the amusement of his fellow soldiers. A few more snorts and chuckles sounded when I cheerily asked whoever it was to eat shit.

"Make sure you have a good grip on the handhold," Vee whispered so closely that the very tip of her forked tongue brushed the top of my ear. "The inertial dampeners work well but they can only counteract so much force."

I was suddenly and acutely aware that the handhold was all there was. There were no seats or straps or anything else to hold us down. The engines pitched and whined and their volume built almost as quickly as my dread. "The inertial what now?"

The mosquito tone gave way to the familiar sound of a commercial jetliner's engines, culminating in a shrieking roar that coincided with the feeling of something trying to yank the floor out from under me. The next moment, my organs couldn't decide whether they wanted to crowd around my spine or jam themselves into my legs like an overcrowded city bus. The feeling was so nauseating, so intensely disorienting that I found my grip slipping, and for a few moments the only things keeping me upright were Vee's tail rigidly coiled around my legs and her hand keeping mine on the overhead bar. I wanted to talk, to chat, to say anything that might for one second distract me from the fact that my stomach had dropped like an anchor to the bottom of my pelvis where the g-forces pulled and stretched it like taffy into each leg equally -- but I kept my mouth shut. I knew the moment I parted my lips there would only be a vile deluge.

I didn't know how fast were were going or how high or low. I didn't know how long we were airborne. All I knew -- all I felt was when we had slowed and all my insides slowly began to float back into their usual positions. Nobody else seemed as shaken as I was; they looked jittery for certain, probably on account of the coming fight, but it appeared the flight had been nothing unusual for them. I knew we had set down when a solid knock underneath my feet shook the entire craft before everything settled down, including the engines which had begun to quiet again to their mosquito-like whine. The doors opened and everybody streamed out just as orderly as they had embarked. I was the last one off, still trying to find my legs beneath me. Just outside the craft, Vee patiently waited for me, to Caleb's minor annoyance; he seemed eager to join the rest of his people.

It wasn't just his people, however; when I was done making sure my legs hadn't been reduced to jelly, I looked up and saw a sea of resistance soldiers already milling about -- most too busy to give Vee anything more than a confused double-take. The volunteers from Caleb's group melted into the crowd until he whistled, and they all came back out again to form up around him. Just a dozen or so yards from the group was a line-up of vehicles. A pair of pick-up trucks, each with an enormous gun seemingly bolted to the bed and some makeshift armor hanging onto the sides, sat idling with two tanks on the far end. Sitting atop the furthest tank was a pale-skinned, black-haired man with a slender, clean-shaven face that unfortunately made him look like a teenager. His youthful image was mitigated somewhat by some of the strangest armor I had ever seen a person wear. It looked like something straight out of a science fiction film, all sleek and shiny and hugging his body in such a way that it seemed like the suit itself had the toned muscles of a body-builder.

Vee leaned over to whisper into my ear, "XCOM." The moment she had moved, this young man in the clean, high-tech armor zeroed in on her immediately with a cutting glare that could have carved out a diamond from the rough.

"Camp Bravo," he shouted above the din, immediately silencing the chatter. "Front and center."

Caleb dropped what he was doing and broke away from his group, no doubt feeling like a student called up the teacher's desk as everybody watched. The idle chatter slowly picked up again and it was impossible to hear what the XCOM guy was saying, but it was obvious even to the casual observer what the subject was.

"They're talking about me," said Vee as she slowly shrank behind me.

"Are you scared of XCOM? Of him?" I asked, hoping my question itself wasn't taken as an insult.

"Not of him. Of what he might tell seventy other humans to do? Yes." She peered over my shoulder as we watched Caleb and this man apparently get into it. I guessed things got pretty bad when David decided to trot up to argue alongside his leader and suddenly three men were shouting. I still couldn't hear them clearly but the yelling was hard to miss. Caleb's expressions were a far cry from before when Freddie had been hollering at him -- gone was the whimsical little smile and in its place, anger and impatience. Thinking about her back at camp put things more into sobering perspective.

"What's wrong?" said Vee.

"Just thinking about Freddie, and about what Caleb said before we left -- about everybody's families. People are going to die here. Freddie could be a widow by the time this is over. I hate it."

"The cost of war. Everyone who fights must decide on their own if what they stand to gain is worth more than what they might lose."

"And what the hell does ADVENT stand to gain? They could just throw up the white flag and avoid all of this."

"Do not make the mistake of comparing them to you -- to us. Those among their ranks strong enough to break free of their conditioning in the Elders' absence would have done so already, and were they merely looking for survival they would have offered to negotiate instead of taking what they surely knew was a critical resupply point. They still act on the Elders' behalf."

I tried to hang on to what she was telling me: they speak, they think, but they are still just puppets. I knew she was telling me that they were, at the basest level, indifferent from chryssalids or berserkers. All I had to do was convince myself she was right, which was much easier said than done. I wondered if Alex were here beside me, would this be easier for me? Vee does it because she has to, Alex did it because he wanted to -- on top of being my brother, would that have made his encouragement easier to digest?

"This would be easy for Alex. He's probably laughing at me right now."

"You don't think he would be proud of you? You're finally a part of the fight. Wasn't that a major point of contention between you two?"

I choked back the start of a laugh. "He'd probably hate why I'm fighting. I'm not out here trying to save humanity. I'm fighting for you, for me -- an alien! -- so we can have a new home. The war for Earth is done and I sat it out. Things like this," I said, motioning to the crowd and vehicles nearby, "are Alex's territory. I can't imagine anyone less suited to something like this than me. Hell, Penny would--"

My throat tightened in an instant, strangling the words inside of me as much as the punch to my gut was trying to force them out. Out the corner of my eye I saw Vee begin to reach for me, but she pulled her hand back in case anybody had been watching us.

"You cannot think about her now."

"I haven't stopped thinking about her, Vee," I rasped. "I swear I see her walking around the crowd. She would've been useful here. She could've been fighting or repairing these tanks and trucks."

"She was just as much of a hermit as you were. She chose to remove herself from society, and even after the Elders fell she still hid herself. I cannot pretend to know all of her motives but she is a product of her choices, just like you and me. You are here and she is not, therefore you are more useful to this fight than she is -- than she would have been. Don't you recall? She wanted the chryssalids gone so she could continue to scavenge in peace. She was not going to help anyone but herself."

"Vee--"

She slashed her hand through the air, cutting me off and lowering her voice such that only I could hear. "I know the words I use sound judgmental. I don't mean for them to be. Everyone's choices have consequences. Penny forced you to make a choice and you separated me from the rest of ADVENT. So far you are the only human to have done that. Only you have seen me as an individual."

I didn't think I'd forget that night for as long as I lived. She was injured and bleeding, hungry, scared just like anyone else would be with a gun in their face. Did that -- was that enough of a balance? I helped one person and killed another. It was such a sickeningly black-and-white metric that just thinking about it caused me to fidget uncomfortably. That couldn't be all there was to it. Did it matter that I helped the alien and killed the human? I wasn't so naive now to think it wouldn't matter to others. I'm sure if anyone found out I'd be a traitor to the cause, to my species and my planet. I'd be just as much of an alien as Vee; hated, reviled, outcast.

Another bout of shouting broke out above all the other noise. "And keep it on a short fuckin' leash!" said the XCOM man as Caleb turned his back. He sliced through the crowd like a shark through water as the everybody parted to give him a wide berth, momentarily spinning around to say something to David who was closely trailing him. He marched right over to us and angrily huffed out a few breaths before apparently collecting himself, then looked Vee right in the eyes while sternly poking her shoulder.

"Do not leave my side. For your protection, understand? My deal is still on the table. I don't give a fuck what anyone else says."

"Camp leaders, front and center!" the XCOM man yelled, standing up on one of the tanks. "The rest of you to your squads and await instructions!"

A handful of people -- Caleb and David included, and by extension Vee and I -- materialized from the crowd as the rest of the people fell back to roughly split themselves up into groups. We approached the tank XCOM guy was using as a pedestal and he hopped down to direct us all to the side, where we all began to instinctively arrange into a semicircle around a large and detailed map being projected onto the side of the vehicle by some sort of high-tech drone; it was a like a little box with four paddle-shaped wings, though I couldn't see or hear any rotors keeping it aloft. Our little slice of the semicircle was a little sparse, though; people weren't too keen to stand around Vee. Nobody was in a rush to point out elephant in the room. Nobody but XCOM, anyway.

"Why the hell is your pet here?" He whined, motioning to Vee without tearing his eyes off of Caleb. She did not take kindly to the comparison and flared her hood, and I could just barely see the beginnings of a snarl twitching her upper lip. XCOM switched his exasperated expression onto me. "And who's the guy beside you? Not David, no -- that guy. Did another camp set up nearby I don't know of?"

"You told me to keep her close, and he's with her. So you've got them both. Deal with it."

"The hell do you mean he's with -- you know what? I don't care," the man from XCOM finally said, throwing his hands up. "Bigger shit to worry about. For anybody not in the know, you can call me Rook. I have operational authority direct from Central and will be overseeing this assault. Two weeks ago a small contingent of ADVENT troops were moving through the area before deciding to set up shop in the abandoned commercial park here," he said, pointing at the map. "Mostly warehouses and a few derelict storefronts, with one two-story office building. Resistance cells used to move things through here a few years back. For whatever reason, ADVENT decided to settle in and more and more of them have rallied to the park since. Intel says thirty plus and is afraid more ADVENT will join them if word gets out they've found a safe spot to gather. We give them the boot and that's one less place for them to hide, in addition to giving XCOM a central distribution point from which we can supplement current logistics networks. That means more stuff reaches your camps faster -- food, fuel, clothing, medicine, you name it. So here's what we're going to do."

Rook issued a sharp whistle and a green laser beam blinked into existence, emanating from somewhere on the drone's body. It followed his finger as if he were drawing with it across the map. "The Bradley tanks, designated Hammer One and Hammer Two, will advance across the parking lot and--"

"Where'd you find those fossils anyway? Ain't seen once since the invasion," somebody said.

"The mothyards in the midwestern wilds, and don't interrupt me again. The tanks will move across the parking lot and dispense smoke, allowing their complements to disembark and advance with the technicals following closely behind. The tanks have been in the field for a while; their crews are tired and they have limited ammunition, so while they will be dishing it out, don't rely on them. The technicals will run through the enemy line here and continue to the rear of the office building, drop off their fighters, and continue to run harassment afterwards. While that is happening and while still under smoke, everybody else advances. The tanks can blow out the storefronts to deny ADVENT cover but we want the warehouse and the office building intact. Camp Alpha brought twelve guys, so they can fill out both tanks. Camps Bravo and Golf, you'll crew the technicals and are tasked with taking the office building. Camps Lima, November, and Oscar will advance on foot behind the smoke screen from these positions respectively."

"What sort of ADVENT composition are we looking at?"

"Mostly troopers. My drone here did a flyby an hour ago and spotted two mutons carrying a generator and two vipers alongside three officers." Rook paused, waiting for any other questions. He smugly clapped his hands together when none surfaced. "That's the plan. Get back to your people, fill them in, and--"

"It's a stupid plan."

All eyes fell on Vee, who slowly rose up on her coils until she was a head taller than the tallest person here. She sank back to her normal height as she pushed past Caleb and David to get a closer look at the map. My face burned a little brighter than usual, probably from the second-hand embarrassment that usually accompanied a friend deciding to make a scene.

"What did you say, snake?" Rook hissed. "What did I tell you about a short leash, Caleb? I don't want to see this thing, much less hear it. You're lucky enough I'm letting it hold a gun around everybody else."

"Yeah, get the science project back under control."

"As if the ADVENT spy's got anything worth saying. Anybody got a muzzle?"

"It's probably trying to get us killed."

"Let's go, Vee," said Caleb, half-heartedly beckoning for her as if he were only trying to placate the big bad man in the fancy armor.

"I cannot be the only one that sees this," she said, compressing her body into an s-shape as she looked the map over top to bottom. "Are the rest of you so intimidated by XCOM that you don't dare to point out the obvious? Liam, come here."

I wanted so badly to just shrink away into nothing, just cease to exist, when all of the big shots and experienced fighters trained their sights on me. It wasn't in me to say no to her, though. I trusted her implicitly and despite the obvious flush in my cheeks, timidly broke away from the semicircle to stand beside her. She spun me by the shoulders to face everyone else.

"This man," she said as though she were presenting some oddity at a carnival sideshow, "does not have any experience fighting. There is not one tactical thought in his mind." I was spun around once more, only to see her subtly mouth that she was sorry before she pointed at the map. "Can you tell what's wrong with this? All the time you spent hiking with your father and his father -- you can read a map, can't you?"

Thinking back on those times took me away from my embarrassment. Before the woods had receded from the rear of the farmhouse, my dad and grandfather would take my brother and I out deep into the woods for a few days -- it never truly felt as though we were in the wilderness, but we were always far enough out that home seemed just out of reach. Out there we were taught basic skills that dad said we would never need but were always good to have. How to make a make a snare, identifying plants and which were poisonous or safe, various do-it-yourself filters to further purify water -- things of that sort. Chief among them all was how to read a map, because dad and grandpa never showed us how to get back home; that was a job for me and my brother, and I was now prouder than ever to say that yes, I could in fact read a map.

It took me a minute to get my bearings based on the legend in the bottom-right; the little drone's projection looked good from afar but up close the resolution was less than ideal. I could still make out letters and numbers if I squinted hard enough.

"There's a road here," I said, drawing my hand up the right side, a little ways from the commercial park. "It looks like it leads to a bridge or some other kind of elevated ground, maybe a highway overpass. There's hills to the left which means -- which means the parking lot is in the middle of a depression. There's high ground on either side. Who builds some podunk outlet mall right next to a highway? And -- holy shit, is this us? We're close already, we could peek over this hill and see them staring back at us."

"Your area of attack," Vee said, taking over again, "is in the middle of a killzone. You have greater numbers and a frontal assault will work but you are needlessly throwing away the lives of countless fighters."

Rook's expression soured by the second, until he turned his back to us and addressed the camp leaders. "I am XCOM. We are the best we've got at the moment, and if you all would rather listen to Camp Bravo's newest pet--"

"I will sink my fangs into the next person to imply I am a pet, an animal, or that I have any love at all for the Elder's servants," Vee calmly said as she slithered up to Rook, raising herself to look down directly at him, "and flood your veins with so much venom it will come streaming out of every orifice of your body."

He didn't dare look away. I don't know if he was actually threatened by her or if he was trying to show he wasn't scared. Either way he seemed struck more than a little dumb and couldn't muster a single sound in response. Nobody else dared to speak up either. Vee took everybody's silence as an invitation to continue.

"XCOM is not infallible; if they were I would have been dead many times over since the start of this war. ADVENT is now on the defensive and they know it; they spent the entire war looking for a pitched battle but now they are reduced to guerilla tactics. As such, they would not sacrifice high ground directly adjacent to their position. You are being led to believe you have a viable approach but it is a trap. Have a technical move up the overpass -- I guarantee you will find ADVENT there waiting to ambush you as you move through the parking lot. Once the bridge is secured it will provide a clear line of sight to the forested hill at the other end of the commercial park, where I'm sure you will see more waiting for you to make your attack. Once the hill is clear and the bridge is secured, your approach will be much less costly. Leave the technical and its complement on the overpass where they can match any enemy movement to retreat further into the park."

The silence was overpowering. With everybody's eyes like lasers focused on Vee, I thought I would melt just standing so closely to her.

"Camp Golf!" shouted a tall asian woman, spinning on her heel to find her people. "Mount up! We're hitting the bridge."

Caleb leaned over to David and said, "Go with them. I want you and your rifle looking down on us."

"Aye, boss."

Rook was flabbergasted. "You can't be serious, Shiori. What if it's leading you into a trap?"

"Listening to her talk makes my hair stand on end but I won't ignore somebody if they're making sense. We'll hit the bridge and if there's nobody there, we'll come back and do things your way." In a flash, Shiori, David, and six others piled into one of the trucks and sped off, leaving us in a slowly-dissipating cloud of dust and dirt that had Rook sputtering and coughing as he tried to speak.

"This is beyond ridiculous," he said as he waved his hand around to clear the air. "XCOM drops me off to help you -- all of you! Do you have any idea how stretched thin we are with all the hotspots across the globe? And you would rather listen to the viper, who I might add was an enemy combatant only until two months ago? And whose word, for some reason, you all take at face value when it tells you it's friendly? I could shoot this thing where it stands by right and by authority. Any of you could do the same and nobody would bat an eye."

"I didn't know XCOM was executing prisoners of war," Caleb said, not even trying to hide his contempt. "You're more of an advisor anyway. There's no formal chain of command out here. If someone's got a better idea, roll with it instead of whining that your plan isn't so special anymore."

"What happened to you, Caleb?" Rook said, lowering his voice as he walked up toe-to-toe to the man. "XCOM saved your first camp. You remember that, don't you? Before we came, troopers were gunning people down left and right while chryssalids rampaged through the infirmary. I don't remember you taking prisoners then."

"Funny," Caleb growled, staring back down the length of his nose, "I don't remember seeing your face around when XCOM finally decided to show up."

Rook leaned back, crossing his arms as an evilly smug grin played across his face. Despite his posture, the armor made him look tense and ready for action at a moment's notice. "No, I wasn't there. But XCOM kept the footage and used it in tactics classes -- basically how not to defend a position. You had no lookouts on the perimeter, no patrols in the surrounding area, no defensible positions inside the walls. Your failures had a lot to teach."

"With all the holes this viper poked in your plan, seems like you might just be a shitty student."

Everybody else had instinctively drawn in around Caleb, protectively tightening the semicircle around him. It didn't stop Rook from balling his fists, though before any blows could be thrown, a staccato burst of booming gunfire erupted in the distance. Every head in the group whipped around in the direction it had come from, listening intently for any more shots. Several sharp pops split the silence once more, and again there was the deep thunder that I could only surmise was the gun mounted on the back of the truck. Every ounce of unfriendliness dried up, replaced entirely by a new sort of tension as we could only sit and wait. I nearly jumped when a radio on Caleb's chest squealed and crackled to life. He fingered the channel dial to clear it up.

"David? What's happening? You okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine," the radio buzzed back. "Caught a handful of them getting a turret network set-up, hidden inside a wrecked 18-wheeler. We're all fine--" A tirade of furious shouting in a foreign language broke his line of thought and he waited for it to pass before resuming, though it never did. He was forced to try and talk over it. "Shiori lost two fingers. She's upset."

"Can you see the hill?"

"One sec -- yeah, they're there. Three more with another turret. Guys, fire on my tracers." Another series of pops and booms echoed through the warming morning air as the same sounds seemed to shake the walkie right off Caleb's vest. "Hill's clear. The snake called it. ADVENT in the park are falling back further into the buildings."

This time everyone's gaze fell on Rook who was now forced to accept either his own inattention or the haphazard attitude with which he approached the lives of those he commanded. He stared at the dirt between his feet with his hands on his hips, sometimes reaching up to slowly and forcefully rub the bridge of his nose to distract himself from the unwanted attention. Every time he would try to raise his head and say something, whatever thoughts he had just seemed to disappear. Vee did not wait for him to regain his composure before calling for everyone's attention once again.

"The rest of the plan seems sound, though I would have the second technical approach the left flank after the infantry engage so that it can maneuver into the park and cut off enemy retreat. The tanks are somewhat vulnerable; sustained plasma fire can disable the tracks or weapons. The mutons and vipers will reveal themselves once the tanks make their approach. Focus your efforts on them first. If only the warehouses and office building are required intact, I would have the vehicles level the storefronts. Don't just deny them as cover -- obliterate them entirely and bring it down atop whoever is inside. Once the outermost defenders are dealt with, move the tanks closer in to screen the advancing infantry. Vehicles are replaceable but soldiers are not. Afterwards--"

"The tanks are not replaceable," Rook finally uttered. "Do you have any idea how much time and energy went into those things? How long we spent looking for parts? They've paid for themselves a hundred times over up and down the east coast in just two months. The next closest armor is in Florida."

"Then if they are lost today you will still have made a return on your investment," said Vee. "Unless you would look at the humans standing before you and pick which ones should die to preserve the vehicles." He looked to the sky as if god himself would show him in the clouds how he was supposed to respond to that. He just sighed and kept silent. "After the outer perimeter is secured, split the infantry into two elements. One will secure the warehouses and the other will secure the office. Does everyone understand?"

"Got it."

"Understood."

"Roger."

"And do you approve, XCOM?"

His brow furrowed and his eyes closed, Rook desperately searched for something in his mind to salvage the situation for himself. When he still found nothing worth saying, he just defeatedly threw his hands into the air, nearly whacking his drone floating beside him. "Mount up," he mumbled.

The semicircle dissolved as each camp leader broke away to explain the plan to their own people. As they passed by I could no longer see so much of the suspicion they so openly wore on their faces before, when Vee had just been some silent intruder to the group. Now she was a resistance fighter just like -- well, maybe not just like them, but close enough to have quickly earned more trust than one would think a former ADVENT soldier would ever deserve. She had stood in the midst of a dozen people who could have just as easily shot her as listened to her and just commanded everybody like she was XCOM herself. She suddenly had a new look about her. Powerful, assertive...god, it felt strange to even think it, but...

"What?" Vee said, slithering up to me.

"What?"

"You were staring."

"Oh," I stuttered, suddenly fumbling for words. "I'm impressed. You told me earlier you were scared about being around so many humans, but then you're just shouting orders around like you're their commander. I'm really impressed. I wish I had that kind of don't-give-a-damn."

"I volunteered to fight, not to die," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper as Rook approached, maybe emboldened by the absence of the camp leaders. I was suddenly aware that Caleb was not nearby.

"God himself," Rook cried, throwing his hands skyward before jabbing a finger in her direction, "could come down on a golden chariot with a legion of angels behind him and proclaim you are one of his chosen. And I still wouldn't trust you. Let me catch you acting funny just once -- only once." His mouth hung open and one more sound squeaked out, but he stop it short of forming any kind of recognizable word. He pursed his lips, sighed, and disappeared inside the open door on the back of the nearest tank and slammed the hatch shut behind him.

"He was going to call you pet again."

"But he didn't."

"He's scared of you," I said.

She faintly smiled, then turned and beckoned for me to follow her back towards Caleb, who was picking people to load up the second technical. "What about you?" she asked. "Are you afraid of what's coming? If you have any regrets, I would hope Caleb--"

"Not a chance, I don't trust any of them to watch out for you. And yeah, I'm kind of scared. That's pretty normal, isn't it?" She nodded. "I've already had what feels like a hundred brushes with death since I've met you. It makes it all feel so far away, you know? I could have been shot at the farm, I could have stepped on an actual landmine, the serial killer guy could have shot me, the berserker could have torn me to shreds -- if I'm going to go down, why not finally for a cause? Doing what my brother did feels right."

"Good mindset. Fear is important but you cannot allow it to be paralyzing."

"It's just -- ADVENT's not going to -- I mean, you were ADVENT too at one point, as were the skirmishers. Is it okay? It feels weird to ask. I don't even know what I'm asking."

"I do." She tapped Caleb on the shoulder and he turned. "Do you have a loudspeaker or megaphone or something similar?"

"Uh, yeah, Olga's got one. Olga!" A woman in the driver's seat of the technical stuck her head out the window. He repeated Vee's request and Olga withdrew again into the cabin, reappearing a moment later with the megaphone. He snatched it, thanked her then and handed it off the Vee, ignoring Olga's clear annoyance with where her property had ended up. Vee headed back towards the tanks, gently grabbing my shoulder for a moment to let me know she wanted me to follow her. "Hey, where are you going with that? Why do you need it anyway? You can't leave my side, remember?"

"Then follow me," Vee said. "It will only take a moment." A few quick steps put Caleb at our side and we went just past the tanks, barely stopping at the peak of the hill that separated us from the commercial park. She sank low to the ground until she was practically crawling, and Caleb and I followed suit. I dared not show anymore of myself than I needed to see what the battleground looked like. Across a vast parking lot was a run-down little outlet mall exactly as the map had described. A line of storefronts with shattered windows and displays faced us, overtaken in equal parts by rust and plants. A path split the complex down the middle and behind the deteriorating structure sat the black office building, the bottom and upper floor both sporting what would have been a solid, unbroken line of windows if any panes were left. Every few moments my eyes would catch a glimpse of movement and I would instinctively duck lower, only to remind myself that I couldn't get any lower with my chin already digging into the dirt.

Vee put the megaphone in front of her mouth and began to speak in ADVENT. I caught onto a word here and there, but I couldn't piece it together well enough until Caleb began to translate. Maybe he saw how confused I was.

"'If you surrender, you will be treated as fairly as I have. The Elders are no longer your masters'," he hastily spoke between the pauses in Vee's speech. "They won't surrender," he said to her.

"I know."

Silence blanketed the parking lot again. A two-tone voice broke the quiet and shouted in halting English, "Long live the Elders!"

"Those among them like me would have already left or been rooted out," Vee said to me, sliding backwards down the hill. "Those who remain cannot be convinced or reasoned with."

"Like chryssalids," I said, perhaps still trying to convince myself.

"Like chryssalids," she nodded.

"I'm glad you two have cleared up whatever you've cleared up, but we're about to move. Leave your backpacks on the airship. Trust me, you'll get them back."

With our loads lightened, Caleb took his spot in the truck bed atop the wheel well, snapping his fingers at Vee and slapping the spot beside him. She slithered on up as the other soldiers nervously made room for her, and she used her tail to pull me up by the wrist. I nestled myself between her and the trucks' cab, slightly spreading my legs to avoid the thick post that anchored the giant gun to the bed. The whole vehicle shook as Olga revved the engine; I had a feeling it was more than past due for whatever maintenance it required. During what was likely our last few moments of calm, Vee took inventory of her harness before doing the same to mine. She opened each pouch and pocket and told me what was inside: magazines, medical supplies, knife, flashlight, whatever other odd and end she found. When she was done I went through the same motions, slapping each pouch with my hand and reciting what was inside it. I think that was when I finally noticed my hands were shaking. I just white-knuckled my gun, hoping nobody would notice.

"This is anybody's last chance," Caleb said, letting his look linger on me. When everybody else seemed confused, I realized then he was probably speaking to me without actually speaking to me. "If you want out, now's the time."

Nobody said a word. Caleb let David know things were about to happen and then smacked the side of the truck. Olga slapped the horn and the men and women that had been waiting by the tanks filed in. Seconds later the armored vehicles rumbled to life with a smooth baritone note that belied how rough and dirty they looked. All of the people set to traverse on foot hunkered down at their respective sections of the parking lot, at the foot of the hill that shielded us from enemy view.

The tanks growled and lurched forwards, and no sooner had they crested the hill did bolts of green start flying overhead. They returned fire immediately, cannons rapidly spitting out their replies. Every shot seemed to feel like somebody rapping their knuckles on my head and I found myself reflexively flinching with every shot. I eventually lost sight of them as they steadily advanced and the only assurance they were still operating was the constant thumping of their guns, which I mistook several times for my heart beating up inside of my skull. A distant, continuous barking just audible between the tanks' reports told me that the technical on the bridge had opened fire as well. Olga revved the engine again, impatient to join the fight.

"Just wait," Caleb half-shouted. The guy across from me -- looking much older than he probably was -- noticed my reaction to the sounds and gave me his headset, claiming he was half-deaf already. I slipped it on and everything was subdued and dull, like I was underwater.

What came next sounded like a line of fireworks being launched from their tubes, that deep thumping that sometimes felt it could push me back if I had stood to close. Moments later thick white smoke began to drift over the hillside above us, billowing down to blanket everything and everyone. A fierce chorus of shouts broke through the din of battle and everybody on foot charged up and over the hill. New shots began to split the air above us, separate from the streaks of green, that seemed to move so fast they would visibly distort the air.

"Breathe," Vee said, her voice clearer than the crashing sounds of war nearby. I never even knew I had been holding my breath. "Stay close to me at all times. Listen carefully and watch closely. Trust those around you to do their jobs." I think I nodded; it was either that or the truck shaking as Olga revved the engine once more. By now the guys on foot must have been up over the hill for twenty or thirty seconds.

"Go! Now!"

The engine roared and the tires spun, spraying out a rooster-tail of dirt and rocks behind us. The millisecond we climbed over the hill the man on the mounted gun opened up like his finger was glued to the trigger, never once letting the gun go quiet for as long as we were on the move. I couldn't hear anything else over the immensely angry weapon that sounded as if someone was beating on a massive drum, and every time it fired my bones rattled so hard I thought my flesh was just going to shake right off my skeleton. Scalding casings clattered to the floor, quickly filling up every empty space. Then, for one quick and merciful second, it was quiet. I looked up and saw the man's head flop backwards, his body kept upright for a moment longer by his death-grip on the gun's handles. A heartbeat more and he fell away entirely, tumbling backwards like a heavy sack over the lip of the bed to be left behind on the overgrown asphalt. A second person jumped up with no hesitation and took his place, and the pounding drum and rain of empty brass continued. When I took a second glance at the body I saw a brown hunter's jacket that I hadn't noticed before.

"Breathe."

The truck jerked left, pressing Vee to me and squishing me against the cab as I was given a new view of the fight. The tanks continued their advance under the plasma volleys. A giant humanoid fired from the cover of a storefront; it looked about the same size of a berserker but wore green armor and a mask that covered its pale, flesh-colored face. One of the tanks adjusted its turret and loosed a rocket from a pod on its side; I tried not to blink but I couldn't help shielding my eyes from the ensuing explosion. When I looked again, the storefront was gone with only rubble and fire in its place. A second green-armored alien tried to run or change positions or something, but a tracer from the bridge found its mark and the creature's head just exploded -- it was there one second and gone the next.

"Breathe."

At this point our truck began to take fire. Chips of metal flew through the air as incoming rounds sparked off of the metal plating covering the sides. It wasn't entirely sufficient, however. A well-aimed burst took a ragged chunk out of the far side of the driver's cabin, showering the rest of us with shards of metal. The man across from me, who had so graciously given me his headset, took a bullet in the arm. The woman beside him immediately set to work even as he howled in pain, popping open several pouches on her vest and doing her best to treat him as we sped along across parking medians and speed bumps eroded by time. I wondered if I would have been hit if that bullet had keep going.

"Liam, breathe!"

We rounded the far side of the park, passing by the storefronts and finally stopping at another pathway that led towards the center of the complex where the office building was. Rusted dollies littered the area and weathered, broken clay pots lined the sides at regular intervals. The main path was impeded every couple dozen feet or so by large, waist-high stone planters that each housed a plant whose roots had long ago burst through the walls of their containment. The truck skidded to a hasty stop as a lone black-clad figure darted out from a darkened corner towards the office building. The mounted gun thundered overhead and he crumpled into a pile without any noise whatsoever.

Olga shouted, "Everybody fuckin' out!"

Vee gracefully slithered from her seat as I pretty much just fell over the side, desperately trying to hug whatever solid thing was closest to me and never wanting to let go. As I slowly got my bearings the big gun pounded again and two more troopers joined their comrade on the floor, orange blood pooling into a crater in the stone. Vee wound the tip of her tail around one of my wrists and dragged me into cover beside her, behind the stone planter closest to us. I switched the safety off my gun and let go of my first breath since the truck first moved over the hill.

"Tanks must be doing work if they're already trying to fall back," Caleb shouted. "Nowak and Vasquez, clear these two stores on either side of us and make sure the back doors don't link to anything that comes off the south side. Everybody else, hold here and fuck up anybody that tries to get past."

The park as a whole was arranged in a square, with each side sporting a single path that lead into a central, circular plaza. The storefronts closer to the center gently curved away inward, creating a fifteen or twenty foot gap that had to be crossed if anybody wanted to get to the two-story office. As the tanks and fighters pushed further in, ADVENT would be forced to fall back through the plaza. They were trapped and they didn't even know it yet.

"Liam," Vee said without tearing her laser focus from the sights on her gun, "Do as I do." She had her weapon resting on the stone wall of the planter. I pulled myself into an uncomfortable half-crouch to copy her, resting the rifle's barrel -- and most of my weight -- onto a shallow divot in the bricks. She reached over to flip the safety of my gun, but offered a tight smile upon finding I had already done it. "Fire in short, controlled bursts. Do not stop firing until your target is down or until you are empty. Aim for center of mass -- the chest. Try to stagger your fire to cover your team."

"Stagger?"

"Fire when they are not. Above all, remember that whatever you find in your sights is like a chryssalid."

"Okay," I panted.

"And remember to breathe."

"I'm trying."

"You can do this."

"Everyone get ready," Caleb said, tension seeping through his voice. I looked back in time to see him adjusting his radio. "Rook says the ADVENT defensive is collapsing. Any minute now they'll be passing us by. Fingers on triggers, people."

It felt like hours but we only waited seconds for the rest of ADVENT to start trickling into our line of sight -- dazed, confused, maybe tired or wounded by the way they stumbled around, seemingly oblivious to the wide open space they found themselves in. One of them looked our way, a piece of the full-face helmet missing to reveal a familiar fear etched onto his flattened features. He looked so much like those troopers I had seen on television weeks ago, right before the camera panned away to avoid showing their execution.

Vee shot first, her gun barking out a long burst before the trooper could even turn around to warn anybody. Each shot hit home, climbing upwards across his chest and ending at his neck as fragments of black armor gave way to the flesh underneath. He dropped to the ground under a puff of orange blood that delicately lingered in the air. Her shots startled me into pulling my own trigger, but in the cacophony of gunfire as everybody else opened fire, I couldn't tell if it was my bullets connecting or someone else's. A handful of troopers tried to find positions to shoot back at us; it was hard, if not impossible when they had tanks behind them, snipers on one side and us on the other. No matter where they turned, they were met by a furious fusillade of fire from all ends. They eventually gave up trying to defend their retreat at all and just sprinted for the office building. Barely anybody made it past the stream of lead from the technical; he didn't let up on the trigger once. The area leading up to the office entrance was so littered with bodies that the handful who made it through the hail of bullets had tripped and stumbled over their comrades before making it inside. He kept firing well after there was no more movement -- just to make sure. it made sense but I couldn't keep my stomach from churning. After sufficiently chopping up whatever bodies lay strewn about the ground, the big gun turned its aim onto the second floor of the office and began firing in short bursts, shattering what remained of the windows and showering the area with glass and stone. I didn't see any ADVENT up there yet so I wasn't sure what was going on, but everybody else seemed slightly less tense so I let myself wind down a little as well.

"Friendlies coming up, hold fire!" A hesitant hand came out from where ADVENT troopers had retreated from, offering a friendly little wave before the rest of the person stepped into view. She wore a brown hunter's jacket and had a bleeding gash at her hairline that had blood streaming down one side of her face. Were it not for the fact that she tried in vain to wipe her eye clean I might've thought she wasn't bothered by it at all. Behind her, more resistance fighters began to fill out the central plaza, checking bodies and making sure nothing was moving that shouldn't be. I felt my skin start to crawl as a few more gunshots rang out.

"What's the warehouse situation?" Caleb said. He fished a rag from his own vest and handed to her while dozens of other resistance fighters swarmed past us further into the park. A young black girl ran past, holding her gun up and cheering all the way as she bore a startlingly familiar smile.

"A few troopers managed to slip through the stores to hole up inside. Alpha, Lima, and November are moving on them now. Camp Zulu had no fighters to spare but they're now routing two airships to pick up casualties," she said, wiping her face as clean as she could before tying the rag around her head to staunch the bleeding. "Golf is still on the bridge, so that leaves Bravo and Oscar to take the office. I've got seven guys who can still fight. Figured we take one floor, you take the other."

"Sounds good. Where's Rook?"

"Little bastard hasn't set foot outside of his tank. I switched channels when he started micromanaging like I was working retail again."

"Okay, screw him then. Don't need him." Caleb replaced his gun's magazine with a fresh one. Everybody else followed suit; I sloppily copied them, fumbling with the magazine as my whole body seemed to be experiencing an earthquake. "Vee, up front with me. You can breach a room, can't you?"

"Yes, but Liam--"

"No offense to him but he can bring up the rear. I'm not going to have someone so green anywhere near the front." That was fine by me. "Let's move."

My boots were practically splashing in blood with every step as I tried to find a clear path around the bodies of so many ADVENT. Even after clearing that killzone and stepping onto dry stone again, I still felt my boots stick to the floor as I left orange footprints all the way to the office entrance. It was a thin, rectangular building with hardly enough space for us all to move. An open lobby shrank into a narrow corridor that ran to another door at the other end of the building. To the immediate left of the entrance was a staircase. Dirt and orange blood peppered the moldy white walls and daylight brightly shined through a myriad of bullet holes. We slowly made our way upstairs as the second team made their entrance and began clearing rooms on the first floor. A slamming door, a fiery exchange of gunfire and shouting -- somehow the cramped quarters made everything seem more violent and much, much more personal.

Vee robotically broke left at the top of the stairs and three shots echoed down through the stairwell as Caleb broke right, then flipped himself around to fall in behind Vee. The rest of us followed until we were all standing in the hallway, huddled against the wall as the people at the front did their thing. The second floor was almost the same as the first: it was a single corridor with one wall made entirely of windows and three doors on the other side, and another door waiting at the very end with a ADVENT body slumped against it. Caleb tapped Vee on the shoulder and she stopped dead in her tracks while he waved to the technical outside and indicated the first door. Everybody backed up once the idea became apparent.

The technical opened up again to burp out a line of fire into the first room, tearing out chunks of the wall and flooding the corridor with dust so thick I couldn't see to the end of the hall anymore. A feminine two-toned voice cried out in the ADVENT tongue as bullets tore through the room. When the fire stopped, Vee, Caleb, and the third guy flowed smoothly into the room. Six gunshots rang out, and all three exited to resume their place in line so the group could move down the hall to the next room.

Where before the thought was merely fleeting, now I was sure that I would never be able to do something like this. Alex might have been made for it but I had no doubts that if I had ever gotten involved with the resistance, I would've been dead within a week. Making myself a target by manning mounted guns, sprinting across open spaces covered only by smoke, holding down a trigger on a narrow angle to kill anybody that happened to walk through -- this wasn't me and it never would be. I didn't want it to be me. Being forced to kill was bad enough to plague me with nightmares ever since.

But, I realized, I wasn't doing this for me. I was not trying to satisfy some bloodlust. I wasn't looking to collect my pound of flesh from ADVENT. This was for Vee; this was for her shot at freedom and some semblance of a normal life, or as normal as someone like her could ever have on Earth. Even if I'm not good at it, I'm not going to just give up on looking out for her. Caleb seemed genuine about his deal with Vee but we were nowhere near the fringes of the battle. There was no way we could slip away unseen even with the fight mostly won. That had me thinking about exit strategies, and I didn't really have any of those. In fact I didn't have much of anything in my head at the moment. I'm fairly certain every ounce of blood in my body had been replaced by adrenaline, sweat, and bile, and I was just waiting to fall apart into a sack of mush. I couldn't operate for much longer like this; my vision was as shaky as my hands, like I couldn't focus on anything. I kept trying to blink away the dust and sweat in my eyes so hard I was starting to see spots. Everything around me seemed like a hallucination, a nightmare where not even thundering guns or screams both human and inhuman could wake me up.

The same pattern repeated from before with the second room. The giant gun outside shredded the walls and filled the other two rooms with bullets, and the first three people in line swiftly rushed in to put down anybody still putting up a fight. Only this time things didn't go so smoothly after Vee and Caleb went to clear the second room.

Someone behind the door at the end of the hall opened fire, splintering the heavy wooden door and blowing through the ADVENT corpse blocking it closed. Somebody in front of me tried to return fire and got a few shots off before everybody tumbled backwards like dominoes, knocking me to the floor where I found myself pinned. Warm blood speckled my face and trailed down my lips and I started to panic, trying to tear at my vest for the first aid pouch before I realized why the man atop me was not moving, before I realized it wasn't my blood; a chunk of his head was just -- gone, like the flesh had been sheared away to expose the stark white bone beneath. It wasn't just him, though. Nobody else was moving but me.

"Liam? Liam!"

I heaved as much of the body off of me as I could, barely making enough room to free up my gun and look over the dead man's shoulder. Vee stumbled -- as much as a legless person could -- into the hall at the same time the door at the far end had begun to open and...

...and with that mean glare I had first seen when she had her gun leveled with my face, Penny burst through and trained her rifle on Vee again. She was all smiles at first before her expression quickly flipped into an angry grimace that promised violence, red and orange blood slowly soaking through her muddy brown hunter's jacket. She was going to shoot Vee, who in that moment just looked scared and hungry -- just like the first night I had met her. She was wearing that shiny black armor and the hole in her hood was bleeding. She was ADVENT. Penny had every right to be angry, to want all of ADVENT dead for what they'd done to her mother.

But then the armor fell away and I saw the Megadeth shirt Vee wore, one of many borrowed from my brother's dresser. Beneath the bottom hem were the scars that had before been open wounds, ones that I had helped to heal while I had chattered on about the house and my grandfather. I saw how she stared at me with inquisitive, bright red eyes and how her tongue flickered like it did when we had baked chicken. She wasn't ADVENT. She had been at one point -- in a life that had never been hers at all -- but now she was Vee. She was my friend, she was someone worth saving. If pulling the trigger to save her gave me nightmares, then it was still worth it. I'd do it again. Telling myself I was a defender instead of a killer made it go down a little easier, but I had no delusions that everything afterwards would be okay. I'd still live with the consequences of my actions.

There was no way Vee could raise her gun in time, though as if in anticipation, she arched her body back to clear as much of herself as she could from the corridor. My rifle shuddered and the burst caught Penny dead on, her surprise still frozen on her face. One more frantic pull of the trigger sent another long burst that broke high to dig chunks out of the ceiling, though not before smashing into her chest and neck as she was still reeling from her wounds. I blinked and the ADVENT trooper fell flat onto his back, his blood spattered onto the window beside him and gushing from the massive craters the bullets had punched into his armor.

"Liam!" Vee rushed over to help me up, pulling me out from my grim cover and worriedly wiping the blood from my face. She ran one hand all over me, pulling at my clothing and popping open her first aid pouches with her other hand.

"I'm okay, I'm okay. It's not -- it's from these guys," I said. As though I had suddenly remembered the gruesome extent of his injuries, I promptly doubled over and vomited what I'm sure was the last ounces of fluid my body had. No more blood, sweat, adrenaline, bile -- I was absolutely empty.

"Christ above," Caleb muttered, just now seeing the carnage for himself. He covered his eyes before trailing his hands down his face, leaving bloody, dirty smears. His eyes were empty. I could only imagine how well he knew these three people -- how well he knew their wives or husbands or children, how many times he had fought beside them in the past, or how often he saw them while waiting in the ration line. He dialed in his radio and spoke slowly and calmly, like he had to concentrate on speaking. "David -- yeah, make your way down here. Tell them to set the airships down in the parking lot. Two should be plenty for the wounded. We'll gather -- uh, hang on David," he said before turning to us. "You hear that?"

The ADVENT trooper I had shot coughed, sputtering out an orange mist. He reached for something on his belt right before Vee promptly shot him, though not before he opened his hand to weakly roll something towards us across the floor. As he pushed a laugh and four ADVENT words through the blood filling his throat, my terror froze me.

"Grenade!"

Vee slapped her coils around my chest so hard that it knocked the air from my lungs, and she dragged me back and around the stairwell's corner before wrapping herself entirely around me and pushing my head down. I didn't know where Caleb was. He had been right next to us, he had started running at the same time as us, but I just wasn't seeing him. I didn't know if he was still in the hallway or if he had found another spot to take cover in, but he wasn't with us when it happened.

The first thing I noticed was not the sound, but the intense wave of heat that washed through the hallway that made me feel as if I was inside of a giant oven. Then came the loudest bang I had ever heard in my life, like a hundred lightning bolts had struck right beside me; the ear protection barely did anything to keep my entire head from ringing like a clock. Even as I squeezed my eyes shut to shield them from the debris whipping through the air, I could still see the extraordinary green glow through my eyelids, making me think it had been something like a plasma grenade.

The emerald light faded, the ringing in my ears subsided, and the artificial heat dissipated to gave way to the late morning sun's warmth. Vee's coils cautiously loosened; I hadn't realized how tight she had wound herself around me until I took my first breath.

"Caleb! Caleb!"

I called out again and again to no avail, feeling dread rising in my throat again. I imagined Freddie back at the camp fretting over whether her husband was going to come back, if luck would have his back just one more time. Around the corner was there was only utter devastation that still appeared as an oddly elegant mess. The epicenter of the explosion looked like someone had carved a neat sphere out of the stone, ceramic tile, and walls, and I could actually see down into the first floor. Stubborn embers still brightly glowed orange or a ghostly green. Everything beyond that radius was hell, however. Any material past those glowing hot bits was shredded to the point of being unidentifiable. I couldn't even see the trooper's corpse. The walls looked worse despite already being pulverized by the technical outside.

"Over here, Liam!"

I spun around to find Vee hunkered down beside Caleb, who let go of a long groan to my relief. He seemed mostly unharmed, though as I drew closer I could tell such was not the case. The most obvious injury was the loss of his left hand starting from about the middle of his forearm. Elsewhere across his body were too many nicks and scratches to count, probably from flying debris or shrapnel, if plasma grenades even produced shrapnel.

"Holy shit, what do we do?" She lightly slapped his cheeks, maybe looking to provoke a response. He mumbled something and moved his head. That was good enough to satisfy her before she moved on.

"Stay calm, first of all," Vee said, tightly wrapping her tail just above the amputation while she fished supplies out of her vest. The frayed flesh at the end seemed partly cauterized already, but fresh blood still freely oozed in the space between. I couldn't find his arm nearby. Caleb groaned again, and I had the feeling he was just barely conscious or in shock. She jabbed him in the chest with two syrettes and began to apply a tourniquet. "Hold this here -- good. Pull this as tight as you can until I say -- that's good, stop," she said, tugging on the material to test how snug it was. We applied a second tourniquet just above the first. "His pulse is strong considering his injury. He should recover with treatment. Can you carry him?"

Vee took my rifle and I tugged on the straps of his vest to see how heavy he was. He was no featherweight but he was certainly lighter than a full water barrel back at the house. I never carried one but simply moving one was a pain in the ass, so Caleb would be no problem. Vee instructed me on how to pick him up in something called a fireman's carry, which placed his stomach across my shoulders while I looped one arm between his knees and my other between his arms.

Waiting at the stairs was an audience. The woman who had helped clear the first floor was there along with a few of her team, but at the top step was David, his wide eyes and slack-jawed look contrasting with the cold marksman I had seen on the battlements of his camp. I wasn't sure how long they had been watching us but nobody said a word, only hastily descending the stairs before us to make room. Keeping my footing was no easy task but it felt nice to have something to concentrate on, other than the death and destruction that had taken place. Every time I thought about the stream of orange blood or the dead men I had been pinned under, I just thought about putting one foot in front of the other without tipping over, one step at a time.

David finally found his voice once we were outside. "Zulu's got airships in the parking lot for med-evac. Is he going to make it? He'll make it, right?"

"He'll live," Vee said.

"I hope he's a not a lefty, though," I added. David was unamused but it was impossible to miss the grumbling laughter I felt across my back.

Two ADVENT airships idled exactly where David said they'd be, their engines pushing up clouds of dust that whipped away at my skin. Each had all four wings painted white on both sides, with two blue stripes stretching across the entire length. As we approached I only then noticed the various trails of blood that cut all across the grass and asphalt leading up to the airships. Both had floors already slick with blood and laden with groaning, writhing bodies. A loose mesh netting laid across everybody like a blanket, presumably to keep them in place when pulled taut before the ship got underway. Two people -- doctors, nurses, I don't know -- tended to the wounded, but dropped what they were doing to help load Caleb onboard.

He and David shared a few words while waiting for the ship to depart. Caleb seemed much more coherent, or at least just coherent enough to maintain a short conversation with small words. After a while the engines started to whine just a little more, signaling they were ready for take off. Caleb put his good hand on David's shoulder, said something and then smiled weakly. David had his back to us but it was clear he kept reaching up to wipe his eyes. In that moment I saw my father with his hands on my shoulders or my brother's in any of a thousand moments across the too-short time we had with him: settling our brotherly disputes, tempering our expectations, lifting us past our disappointments. Caleb and David looked nothing alike but at that moment their relationship became just a little clearer.

I shielded my face as the airships took off to deliver the wounded, and for one glorious moment after they were gone, there were no explosions or gunfire or screams -- just chirping birds and the gusting breeze.

David looked at me with something in his eyes resembling some respect, and surprisingly maintained that expression as he looked Vee up and down. "Thank you. For looking after him, I mean. He always forgets how goddamn old he is when it comes time to fight."

"You're welcome," I said. Vee only offered a timid nod. He walked past and motioned for us to follow him back towards the hill past the parking lot, back to where we hand landed.

"He told me about your arrangement. I'm not keen on it but he's a better judge than I am of, uh..." He paused, struggling to find the right word as his gaze lingered on Vee, "...people. Rook diverted the tanks to the warehouse so you should probably get going before he rolls back around. Go hop on the mosquito and it'll take you within fifty miles of City 31. No closer though; there's rumors the city's got a mean anti-air network."

Fifty miles! I could hardly believe my ears. They were going to drop us off right at the damn doorstep! Vee whipped her head around to see if I was as excited as she was; her hood seemed like it was flickering or vibrating or something. I had never seen that before, so I guessed she was really excited. And I was too, though as much as I wanted to keep my mouth shut and take what was offered I couldn't keep quiet just one nagging thought.

"Aren't there more wounded? You could use your ship to move more of them."

"These things are fast as all hell, man. Camp Zulu's VTOLs took the critical cases, and their camp isn't too far west. They'll be back in a little while to pick up the ones we lost. Dropping you two off and getting the mosquito back won't take but an hour, tops. I appreciate your concern though."

We trudged over the hill again and saw the mosquito still waiting for us, our bags resting inside the crew compartment. Vee and I took off our harnesses and offered them up; David took them back but emptied the leftover ammunition from the pouches to give to us. As we packed it all away into our bags, I came across the box of cigarettes squished at the bottom. Hidden from David's sight, I nudged Vee and handed them to her and then motioned towards him.

She shook her head and whispered, "Don't test him."

"Trust me, would you?"

She sighed, reluctantly relieving me of the little box and spinning around. As she approached David, he stood a little straighter and leaned back; he was uncomfortable, but not repulsed. She held the cigarettes out for him to take but she appeared hurt, as if he'd already slapped them out of her hand. Instead he quickly snatched them from her and held the box up to his ear, vigorously shaking it with a smile.

He wiped his expression away the next moment. "Don't think this means I like you," he said, wagging a finger at her. "But it's a start."

The engines whined higher and higher before crossing over into a jetliner's roar. David and his friendly little wave disappeared behind the compartment doors sliding down to shut us inside, bathing us in the red glow of the interior lights. As the ship rocked backwards to gain altitude, I did my best to mentally will my organs to stay in place. Despite all the space inside, Vee still stood right beside me, her tail wrapped around my legs and her hand holding mine to the overhead handholds. It was probably for the best. When the acceleration kicked in, it was just as disorienting as last time.

"Fifty miles! I cannot believe this. Even at our fastest pace it would have taken a week or more to get there."

I was impressed Vee was so unbothered by flying in this thing that she could stand to talk, but I quickly realized she had probably flown in one hundreds or thousands of times before. I couldn't tell if she was trying to distract me from the feeling of my organs being compressed into an accordion or if she was just so excited that she couldn't keep it bottled up inside.

"I still don't even know how to get in. We'll worry about that when we must. How do you go about looking for an apartment? Where do you start looking? Are there just pictures posted somewhere and you point out one you want? Something that faces the water would be nice -- I think the city has a major waterway running through it but I can't recall. How hard is it to find a job? How does the process work for humans? If non-humans are there the process must be similar, right? They can't all just be standing around doing nothing. I still don't even know what sort of job I want. I think there's -- I think --"

She trailed off. The unspoken question she left in the air made me feel somehow worse than I already was. After a moment I heard it too: a low, constant beeping that hadn't been there during the first flight. The volume grew louder and Vee's grip on me became bone-crushingly tight.

"Vee," I said, feeling my organs squeezing past my lungs to crowd my throat, "I can't feel my legs. Ease up."

"Brace yourself!"

"What?"

The aircraft rocked sideways as the door on the left side disappeared, ripped apart in a flash of green light and bathing us in heat. Two more bolts of plasma streaked past, originating from somewhere on the ground. The wind threatened to whip us right out of the compartment but the mosquito listed and spun, pressing us against the other side of the interior. The last thing I remembered was Vee shifting her coils around me, compressing me into a fetal position as I glimpsed the approaching treetops through the open door.