The Bones Beneath My Skin

Chapter sixteen

NATE MADE his way into the farmhouse the next morning. Alex and Art were out in the fields with some of Peter’s people, Art having demanded she see horses immediately once she’d found out about them. It was a good distraction, because she’d woken up between them the next morning and immediately stared at them suspiciously.

“Why is your chin all red?” she had asked Nate, narrowing her eyes at him.

Stubble burn, but he hadn’t known if he’d wanted to explain that to a nosy alien.

“Must have slept on it funny.” He glared at Alex, who was doing a terrible job of covering his laughter.

“You slept on your chin wrong,” Art said dubiously.

Nate only shrugged.

“Must have.”

“Hmm,” Art said.

So yes, he was thankful when Peter mentioned horses over breakfast, knowing that it was only a temporary distraction. Art would figure it out sooner or later. She couldn’t read their minds, not really, but they were… bonded, somehow. And she was perceptive. He had an idea of what her reaction would be, and he didn’t know if he was ready for it.

Alex hadn’t looked very pleased at the idea of Nate staying behind, but Nate had waved him away.

“It’s fine. I’m going to see if they’ll let me do laundry. We need it. We’re all running out of clothes.”

Alex nodded slowly. Checking over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t being overheard, he dropped his voice.

“Gun’s under my bedroll.”

Nate rolled his eyes.

“I’m not going to shoot Dolores.”

“Nate.”

“Alex.”

“Don’t be difficult.”

“I—”

Alex had pulled him inside the barn, just out of sight, and kissed him furiously. Nate was still a little shell-shocked that this was a thing they could do now, and barely had time to reciprocate before Alex stepped back.

“It’s just in case.”

“Yeah,” Nate said, slightly dazed.

“Just in case.”

When they’d stepped back out of the barn, Art had looked up from where she’d been watching the people in the garden.

“Huh,” she’d said.

“You must have slept on your chin again in the last three minutes. Funny how that happens.”

Thank god for those damn horses. They made for a perfect distraction.

He’d gone back up to the hayloft where their duffel bags sat and dug through them, finding everything that needed to be washed. He’d transferred it to one bag and slung it over his shoulder, making his way out of the barn and toward the house.

There were people in the garden, pulling weeds and aerating the soil. They stopped as he passed them by, each of them greeting him warmly with broad smiles on their faces. It seemed as if they were… happier than they’d been the day before. Maybe it was the fact that Art was here. Maybe it was something else. But they were all smiles and kind words. It made Nate uneasy, but he responded cheerfully.

Dolores was in the kitchen, cleaning up the remnants of the breakfast she’d put out. There’d been large bowls of oatmeal with fruit and sugar. Art had not been a fan of the lack of meat.

And of course, the radio played in the background.

Their old friend Steven Cooper was on again. Nate wondered if he ever went off the air.

“Tomorrow, friends,” Steven was saying.

“Tomorrow is the day. Why, even now, even during daylight, you can see the Markham-Tripp. And oh, you know we’ve got them scared. Did you see that statement they released? Nothing to worry about, they said. It’s all a bunch of baloney, they said. It should be a fun event for the whole family, they said. As if they don’t know. As if they haven’t been preparing for this exact moment for years. You’re telling me, you’re really going to sit there and tell me that this comet was only discovered last year? One of the biggest and brightest astrological events of our lifetimes was only spotted a year ago. Hogwash, friends. Pure and utter hogwash. They’ve known about this. For years. Why, sources even tell me that they’ve known for a decade about this thing. The comet is just a front. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. It is just a front. You’ll see. By this time tomorrow, we will all bear witness to the greatest event in human history or I’ll eat my hat. Caller, you’re on the air. What are your thoughts on what tomorrow will bring?”

The caller was a shrill man speaking in biblical verses, and Nate cleared his throat even as Dolores was nodding along with the radio.

She startled a little, turning around, bringing the wet cloth to her bosom.

“Sorry,” Nate said, wincing slightly.

“Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Dolores laughed, an oddly braying sound.

“Oh, Nate. That’s… okay. It’s… I wasn’t expecting anyone there.”

“Yeah.” He nodded toward the radio.

“Must not have heard me coming.”

She nodded furiously as she reached over and turned down Steven Cooper.

“It’s just… these are big days, you know? I wanted to hear what Mr. Cooper had to say.”

“Big days?”

She flushed.

“The comet and all. It’s… a once-in-a-lifetime event.”

“So it sounds like. Cooper seems to think so.”

She wrung the dishcloth nervously.

“I know you think he’s all poppycock and tomfoolery. That I’m probably foolish for listening to him like I do.”

Nate shrugged.

“I don’t judge you for that at all. I mean, with everything I’ve seen lately, who am I to say that it’s not something?”

Her eyes widened.

“Right?” She sounded breathless.

“I can only imagine what…” Her gaze darted over Nate’s shoulder before she took a step toward him. “Can I… can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” he said slowly.

“Though I reserve the right not to answer if I can’t.”

“Yes. That’s… I understand. I… didn’t believe. Not like I should have. Not like he wanted me to. Not for a long time.”

“Not like who wanted you to? Peter?”

She nodded.

“It was—you have to understand. The things he claimed. How fantastic they sounded. I mean, to hear it on the radio is one thing. But to hear it from someone in person. Someone who had experienced it… well. That was something else entirely.”

A warning bell went off in Nate’s head.

“Is that how you met Peter?”

She brought her right thumb up to her mouth and started gnawing on the fingernail.

“Yes. He said things. And I wanted to believe them, believe him. But it was hard. My daughter, she—she thought it was all a bunch of bull. She said I was acting crazy.” She laughed a little wildly.

“I told her that we all had things we believed in.”

“You said something about grandkids yesterday. How you liked to cook for them.”

Her smile trembled.

“Yes. Oh, yes. I did. And I was very good at it too. I made them pies. Apple and cherry. And meatloaf. The kind with ketchup in the middle. They liked that most of all. They always ate it up so fast.”

“You haven’t always been vegan, then, huh?”

“Oh goodness, no. That was only after we came here. To the farm. Peter says it’s better this way. That it makes the body healthier. Cleaner. We needed to be free from all the constraints of the lives we used to live.” She blanched.

“Oh, listen to me prattle on. I must apologize. You don’t want to hear any of this. Peter always says I go on and on, and if no one is there to stop me, I might just talk myself to death.”

“It’s fine,” Nate said.

“I’m probably the same way.”

She studied him rather frantically.

“You are, aren’t you. The same. Peter says you are. That you believe.”

“Well, I mean. I’ve… seen things that wouldn’t let me not believe, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Miracles,” she whispered fervently.

“You’ve seen the miracle that they are.”

Nate frowned.

“I don’t know if I’d call them miracles, per se. But it’s—it’s been a very strange last few weeks.”

Her eyes were wet and wide.

“Is she everything you thought she’d be?”

“I don’t—I never thought about her before I met her. I didn’t even know she existed until I saw her for the first time.” He huffed out a breath.

“They told me at first that she’d been kidnapped and he was trying to take her back.”

Dolores nodded.

“Yes. Yes. Back. Away. To let her return.” Her eyes darted to the bag slung over his shoulder.

“Are you… Is everything all right?”

“What? It’s—oh, this? No, everything is fine. I just was hoping to use your laundry facilities. We’re running out of clean clothes, and I don’t know when we’ll get a chance to wash them again after we leave here.”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“After you leave?”

“When Art needs to move on,” Nate said.

“We’ll need to take her where she needs to go.”

“Right,” Dolores said.

“Of course. I guess I wasn’t… thinking.” She took another step toward him.

“I can do the laundry for you. It’s one of my jobs here at the farm. I keep a tidy house.”

Nate forced a smile on his face.

“No, that’s all right. You’ve done so much for us already. I can handle it. If you could just point me in the right direction, I’d appreciate it. Besides, it’s mostly Alex’s dirty clothes, and he really sweats through his boxers.”

“Oh my,” Dolores said.

“He is awfully big. I can see that.”

“Yes, ma’am. So, the laundry?”

“Down the hall. Last door on the right. Detergent is on the shelf.”

He gave her one last tight smile and made his way out of the kitchen. He heard Steven Cooper as she turned the radio back up, telling everyone who was listening that it was going to be a bright and glorious future, my friends.

He paused for a moment at the stairs, looking up and wondering just how many rooms were up there. The house was big, but it wasn’t big enough that each person on the farm could have their own room. He wondered if they doubled up. Or if Peter had his own room.

Ahead, past the stairs, were four doors.

The first was a door on the left. It was open. Inside was a half bathroom with an open window. He could hear birds in the trees. The tile inside was a clinical white. There was a bar of soap sitting on a dish on the edge of the sink. It was immaculately clean.

Three more doors.

Another on the left, toward the end of the hall.

One on the right.

And a door at the very end.

It was this door that caught Nate’s eye. It wasn’t like the others.

The doors in the house, from what he’d seen, were wooden.

The door at the end of the hall was metal.

And there was a padlock on the front.

He heard a voice coming from the last door on the left. He couldn’t quite make out the words, but there were low dulcet tones. It could have been a TV. Or a radio.

He walked down the hall.

On either side of him, hanging on the walls, were framed photographs.

He didn’t understand what they were at first.

They were mostly black-and-white. Fuzzy and slightly out of focus. Some had numbers etched into the photo paper across the bottom, numbers too long to be dates. Almost like coordinates.

In each of them, buried in the blurry gray, were discolorations.

He could see clouds.

They were photographs of the sky.

And the objects that were in them.

Objects in the sky.

Lights. Shapes.

He’d seen things like them before. Of course he had. Everyone had. They were photographs published as proof of unidentified flying objects.

And there were at least a dozen of them on the walls.

That was… par for the course, now that he thought about it.

He wondered if Peter—Oren, that was—had wanted to be separated from Art when he had been. Or how aware he’d been during the two decades in the first place. Artemis had implied it had been a dreamlike state.

But Nate knew just how real dreams could feel.

The floorboards creaked under his feet.

The voice became clearer.

It was Peter.

Peter was speaking.

“…and there is the potential for it to be reborn. It happens. Time is a circle. We’ve been at this point before. Maybe not exactly as we are now. There could have been an entirely different civilization than we know to exist right now. It is a cleansing. And we find ourselves at the threshold.”

Nate took another step. The door was almost closed. He could barely see through a crack in the doorjamb. There were shelves of books. A telescope. The edges of a desk with a blue screen behind it. He thought he could make out the edges of an arm, as if Peter was sitting at the desk in front of the screen.

“Many may not believe my words,” Peter said.

“I can’t force that belief. You and I are different people. I have… seen things. Things that seem to defy imagination. It’s not fair for me to think you could understand when you haven’t been enlightened as I have. There are times when even I seem to lose my patience, where I wish I could take you by the shoulders and shake you until you open your eyes to see what is right in front of you. It’s not… We are more than what the world has made us out to be. There is more beyond the stars. More than you could ever imagine. And when I speak of this wondrous change, I do so only because there are those that can save us from ourselves. Those that show us that there is more. That is the purpose of the Light of Eve and—”

Peter fell silent.

Nate took a step back.

He heard what sounded like a chair moving from a desk, as if someone was standing.

He whirled around, glancing one last time at the metal door before he reached for the doorknob leading toward the laundry room. He was inside the laundry room and fumbling with the switch when the door to the office swung open behind him.

“Nate?”

He glanced over his shoulder, feigning surprise.

“Hey, Peter. How are you?”

Peter eyed him curiously.

“I’m fine. What are you doing?”

He nodded toward the duffel bag.

“Laundry, if that’s okay. I asked Dolores, and she pointed me in the right direction.”

Peter crossed his arms over his chest.

“That’s… fine, of course. While you stay with us, anything I have is yours.”

“That’s very generous of you. We really appreciate it. I know Art does.”

“Yes,” Peter said, voice filled with disdain.

“Art. Shortened, because a nickname is always necessary in this day and age.”

“It’s what she likes to be called.”

“So I gather. She’s… adapted. More than I expected her to. In ten years, she’s become more human than she ever was with me.”

“That—it was different, though, wasn’t it?”

Peter cocked his head. “How so?”

“She was…” Nate fumbled for the right word.

“Sharing. With you.”

“Sharing,” Peter repeated slowly.

“You were there. With her.”

“I was.”

“She’s alone now.”

“I don’t know if that’s true,” Peter said.

“She has the Marine.” His gaze crawled down Nate before it went back up again.

“She has you.”

“I meant inside. She’s… The girl was already gone. Before.”

“Her consciousness had left.”

“Yes.”

Peter nodded.

“The body is not the be-all, end-all, Nate. Do you know that?”

“It seems pretty important to me.”

“It would, I’m sure. But it’s merely a husk. The soul is what makes us human. Your flesh doesn’t do that.”

“I don’t know if I believe in souls,” Nate said honestly, unsure where this conversation was headed. He didn’t like the way Peter was looking at him.

“What do you believe in?”

He shrugged.

“I don’t… know?”

“A higher power? A belief in something more?”

“Seems like if there was, we get the shit end of that deal.”

Peter’s brow furrowed. “How so?”

“We suffer. We suffer all the time.”

“Through pain we’re taught the lessons the soul must learn to achieve the highest state of consciousness.”

“I’m just worried about surviving, if I’m being honest.”

“Surviving what?”

Nate snorted.

“I’ve been shot at more in the last few weeks than I ever have before in my life. I mean, the guy that turned on my water turned out to be an agent with a part of the government I’m not supposed to know about.”

“Enforcers.”

“Yeah. That’s the one. He was nosy, but I mean I thought that was just small-town living. How the hell was I supposed to know he was already watching us?”

Peter was barely blinking. It was unnerving.

“You’re very odd.”

“Says the guy who got body-jacked by an alien for twenty years and yet barely looks older than me.” Nate winced.

“Shit. Sorry. That probably didn’t come out like I wanted it to.”

“I think it came out exactly like you wanted,” Peter said evenly.

“But I take no offense. I understand your point. You’re very… direct.”

“Good,” Nate said, ignoring the trickle of sweat that ran down the back of his neck.

“I don’t want to make things difficult. You’ve been very kind to us since we arrived.”

“Can I ask you a question, Nate?”

“Ye-es?”

“Who have you lost?”

Nate blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re very… cynical for someone your age. It would suggest that you’ve experienced loss so young.”

“I don’t… What does that have to do with anything?”

Peter leaned against the doorjamb that led to his office. Nate could see a video camera set up on a tripod in the middle of the room over his shoulder. It was pointed at the desk where he’d been sitting before. The camera seemed out of place for a farm that was supposedly off the grid.

“I’m merely trying to figure out who Artemis has aligned herself with.”

“Aligned,” Nate said, looking back at him.

“What does that mean?”

“She’s fond of you.”

“I’m pretty fond of her too.”

“And the Marine. That… Alex.”

Nate bristled a little at the derision in Peter’s tone.

“He helped her when no one else would. He saved her life.”

“Did he? And how did he do that?”

“She’s here, isn’t she? She’s not still in the Mountain. She’s safe.”

“She is. More so here than probably anywhere else in the world. I’m glad you see it that way.”

That wasn’t what he’d meant at all.

“And that’s because of Alex.”

“Is it?”

“Yes,” Nate growled.

“He rescued her. He risked his life for her. Hell, he almost fucking died for her. She means the world to him.”

“Of course she does,” Peter said soothingly.

“It’s almost like she’s some kind of replacement for him, isn’t it?”

Nate opened his mouth, then closed it again. Because wasn’t that not too far from the truth? Wasn’t that almost exactly what had happened? It was—oh hell. What was the psychobabble called? Transference. That sounded right. Transferring the feelings for one to another. It was… not unexpected. The people running the Mountain had been smart in choosing Alex, and more than a little cruel.

“Ah,” Peter said.

“I see it on your face. That’s what it is, isn’t it? She’s a replacement.” He sighed.

“How unfortunate. I mean, the depths they would go to. I wonder if she knows. That’s… that might just end up breaking her heart. That is, if she’s capable of having her heart broken at all. They’re not… They don’t have emotions like we do. Not to the same extent.”

That was a glaring untruth. Nate had seen it with his own eyes. Either Peter was lying to him, or he was clueless as to who Art really was.

“That’s not what this is,” Nate snapped.

“You don’t know anything about them.”

“Don’t I? Out of all of us, Nate, who do you think would understand what they have—what they are—more? You? Or me? Because I know what it’s like to be engulfed by all that she is—by all that it is. You see a little girl. You see her big eyes and her crooked smile and the way she dances on Alex’s feet. And for all you know, that’s exactly what she wants you to see. Have you ever thought of it that way? Clearly, you are intelligent. Has it never crossed your mind that she’s showing you exactly what she thinks you want to see in her?”

Well… no. He hadn’t thought that at all. She was—she was Artemis Darth Vader. She was inquisitive and kind and stared at Alex adoringly. She liked reading and waitresses and movies about space princesses. Of course that’s who she was. Right? Yes, maybe if she were capable of deception, this would be the way to go about it, to play upon their emotions, to act the part of a bright-eyed, smiling little girl until she turned on them and—

No. He’d seen her. He knew her. She wasn’t like that.

“No,” Nate said. “Never.”

Peter smiled, as if this was the answer he expected.

“Do you want to know what I see?”

“I don’t—”

“I see a god. I see a being who can impart knowledge far beyond what the human mind is capable of. I see, in part, our salvation.”

Nate narrowed his eyes.

“She’s not yours.”

Peter held up his hands in placation.

“I know. She doesn’t belong to any of us. If anything, she belongs in the stars. That’s where she’s from. And it is to there she must return.”

He felt… better? Hearing that. That Peter thought she needed to go back to where she’d come from. It—well, it actually wasn’t comforting, not really. Nothing about this place was. But as long as Peter understood what the endgame was here, nothing else mattered. Maybe they’d only be here for another day or two. Artemis would get what she needed from the farm. From Peter. From Oren. And then they would leave. It was funny when he thought about it. He’d been initially relieved that they’d found a place to stop for a few days. Now all he wanted to do was get back out on the road again, put the farm in their rearview mirror.

“I agree,” Nate said.

“Just… you don’t know what Alex has been through. What Art has. Hell, even though it doesn’t compare, you don’t know what I’ve been through.”

“I don’t,” Peter agreed.

“But you know loss, just as much as they do. Just as much as everyone here does. Tell me, Nate. Do you know what everyone in this place has in common? Why they came here as they have?”

Nate shook his head. He couldn’t even begin to guess.

Peter tsked as if disappointed.

“It boils down to this: l’appel du vide. It’s a French phrase. It means, quite literally, the call of the void.” He uncrossed his arms and stood up straight.

“It’s an urge for… destruction. Have you ever been driving down the road and thought to yourself, what would happen if I swerved into oncoming traffic? Or have you ever been on the edge of a cliff staring down into nothing and thought, what would happen if I just took one more step? It’s not suicidal. It’s an impulse. A need somehow embedded into our genetic code. Most don’t act upon it because we are capable of rational thought. But there, buried in our lizard brain, is always the what-if. Your hands on the steering wheel and there’s an oncoming semi. The tips of your shoes hanging into nothing. It’s exhilarating. It’s debilitating.”

“I don’t understand,” Nate said, feeling slightly dizzy.

“I know,” Peter said.

“And that’s okay. Maybe you have yet to experience it. You are so young, after all. But the people at the farm, they know of what I speak. They’ve all gone through l’appel du vide at one point or another. They all have a desire for something… more. Something further.”

“And you…? What. Think you can give it to them?”

Peter laughed.

“You sound so dismissive.”

“You sound like Jim Jones.”

Peter didn’t laugh at that. “Do I?”

“Have you ever heard him speak?” Nate glanced pointedly over Peter’s shoulder at the video camera.

“Or seen his tapes? Because I have.”

“This isn’t Jonestown,” Peter said.

“I’m not a demagogue.”

“Aren’t you?” Nate asked, suddenly curious.

“Because Christ, you give a good speech, Oren. Sorry, I mean Peter. Hell, there are moments even I almost believe you.”

“Belief,” Peter said.

“It’s a funny thing when you think about it. It can be so fickle until it’s solidified. And even then, there are moments so extreme that can cause it to shatter into the tiniest pieces. I had a belief, tenuous though it was. I thought I understood the order of the universe. But that was before my body was taken over by a being from the stars. That changes you, Nate. If you’ve never been through it, you can never understand it. It’s… it showed me things. Expanded my mind in ways I never thought possible. And when it was taken from me, when they tore the Seventh Sea from my body, I was bereft. It felt as if I’d been forsaken. I felt loss, Nate. Like you. Like Alex. You may think of me as you do, but I am like you. I understand pain. And grief. I have felt alone while my heart broke just a little more with every beat. While our paths have been different, we have all been led here. To this moment. These people, those who have felt the call of the void, are here by choice, because they no longer wanted to feel alone. Can you not say the same?”

He wanted to. He really did. He wanted to tell Peter he was fucking crazy. That he was done with this conversation. If everyone else wanted to believe it, fine. That was their choice, but Nate wasn’t going to be a part of it.

The problem with that was that he could say the same. It wasn’t until he’d found Alex and Art that he realized just how lonely he’d been. After all, what did he have left? He had no job. His friends had abandoned him when news of his little scandal had broken. His parents were dead. His brother wasn’t speaking to him. All he’d had left was a cabin in the middle of the woods in the mountains of Oregon (and God only knew if that still stood).

And if he really thought about it, if he allowed Peter’s words to sink in, hadn’t he felt the call of the void before? L’appel du vide. He had, hadn’t he? There’d been that moment, months before. After his brother had called him to tell him their parents were dead, but before the call about the cabin and the truck. He’d been… dazed. He’d left his little apartment, his mind almost uniformly blank. He couldn’t even remember how he’d gotten to Chinatown. One moment he’d been sitting on his couch, staring at the walls, and the next he’d been standing under the ornate arch, people milling around him. He’d blinked slowly, like he was just waking from a deep sleep, the remnants of a dream still clinging to him with sticky fingers.

It’d been late in the day and he should have been at work, but hell, that wasn’t an option anymore, was it? He was numb. Everything felt numb.

He’d turned and headed for home.

And it was while he was standing on the Metro platform, waiting for the train, that he’d thought what if? It had been nothing more than a whisper in the back of his mind as he watched the light from the approaching train in the tunnel get bigger and brighter.

What if.

What if?

What if he took a step off the platform in front of the train? It would be quick, wouldn’t it? A breath, a step, and then it would all be over, and holy fuck, it had called to him, the whisper becoming a goddamn scream in his head, brief and earsplitting, and he’d lifted his foot. He’d lifted his foot, his other leg tensing as he started to step forward and—

The train had whooshed by in front of him.

He’d taken a step back, eyes feeling like they were bulging from his head, heart thundering in his chest.

He’d gasped for air as he bumped into a woman behind him. He’d apologized, voice a croak, and the woman looked concerned, asking him if he was okay. He’d nodded, yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just—I’m okay. The train startled me. Daydreaming, wouldn’t you know.

She’d smiled cautiously.

He’d sat on a bench, head in his hands, for close to an hour.

Eventually, he’d made his way home.

A couple weeks later, his brother had called. The cabin at Herschel Lake. Dad’s old truck. That’s it, Nate. That’s all they left you, so don’t ask for anything else. That’s all you’re going to get.

Yeah, Ricky. Okay.

“Nate?”

He jerked his head up.

Peter looked worried.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Yeah. I’m… fine. Look, Peter. I appreciate everything you’ve done for us. For Art. And… yeah. You’re right. I don’t understand what it is you went through with her. When she was… you. But she’s different now. She’s changed. Because of Alex.”

“And you, I would suspect.”

Nate shook his head.

“No. It’s not like that. She’s—”

“You don’t see it, do you?”

“What?”

“The way she looks at you. The way they both do. The three of you, you’re… I suspect you’re all connected. In one way or another.”

Nate flushed. He couldn’t help himself.

“We’ve been through a lot together,” he muttered.

Peter smiled.

“I know. I think everyone here can say the same. And while you may not agree with our way of life, I hope you can respect it. We’re all travelers, after all. Just trying to find our way.”

Nate could get that. He really could.

“I know. And I’m sorry if I came off as—I don’t know. Rude. Or something. You’ve been nothing but nice to us, and I’m here accusing you of being…”

“Jim Jones?”

Nate grimaced. “Yeah.”

Peter waved him away.

“I can see where you’d come to that conclusion, far-fetched though it may be.”

“Who were you recording the video for, then?”

Peter laughed.

“A bit of self-indulgence, if you can believe it. Ever since I was freed from the shackles of the Mountain, I’ve created a video journal of sorts. To document my experiences so that one day, if all of this were to come to light, people would see the truth. How many people in this world could say they have been in my position?”

“Not many,” Nate said.

“At least, I would hope not.”

“Precisely. I think it’s important for the entire world to know what has happened here. To me. To us. You know as well as I do that the Mountain will do everything it can to cover this up. To keep the truth hidden in shadow.”

Nate believed that completely.

“We won’t let them.”

“No,” Peter said, smile growing as wide as Nate had ever seen it.

“No, I don’t expect we will.” He took a step back.

“I’ll leave you to your laundry. Thank you, Nate. This conversation has been most… enlightening. You are truly an extraordinary individual.”

Nate didn’t know what to say to that.

Then, “Peter?”

Peter Williams stopped in the doorway to his office. He looked back over his shoulder at Nate. “Yes?”

Nate nodded toward the padlocked metal door.

“What’s in there?”

Peter laughed.

“Basement. We store chemicals and fertilizer down there for the fields and the gardens. We had kept such things in the barn, but they were stolen from us repeatedly. It can be used to manufacture methamphetamines, in case you didn’t know. I will not be involved in the destruction of the human body, especially not for monetary gain. It was easier to keep it all locked away. Will there be anything else?”

Nate shook his head.

Peter closed the door behind him.

Moments later, Peter began speaking again, though the words were muffled now.

Nate turned back toward the laundry and went about what he’d set out to do.

HE WAITED until after lunch to pull Art and Alex into the barn. Art was babbling about the horses she’d seen, there had been three of them, and one of them had eaten an apple slice out of her hand, could Nate believe that? Could he really believe that?

It turned out he could.

Alex had looked a little worried when Nate had glanced around before nodding toward the barn. Peter had already gone back inside the house, and the others were moving rather lethargically toward their afternoon chores. No one seemed to be in any real hurry.

The comet was a white light against a bright blue sky.

“Is everything okay?” Alex asked him after they’d climbed up to the loft.

“You were… quiet at lunch.”

Nate shook his head.

“I don’t know. Honestly, it’s probably nothing. I mean…” He struggled to find the words.

“I had a talk with Peter.”

“About what?” Art asked, sitting on a bale of hay, feet dangling above the floor.

“How well do you know him?”

“How well do we know anyone?”

“Art,” Alex warned.

She rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know. For him, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen him.”

“But not for you,” Nate said slowly.

“No. I told you. Time moves differently for me. It’s… hard to explain.”

“That can’t be your answer for everything. That’s dirty pool.”

She snorted.

“Your tiny human brain isn’t quite capable of understanding the complexities of everything I am. Trust me on that.”

“Be nice,” Alex told her.

“I didn’t say that to be mean. I was being honest. Literally, your brain could potentially explode if I showed you everything.”

“O… kay,” Nate said.

“But you still haven’t answered my question.”

She shrugged.

“He’s changed.”

“For the better?”

“Maybe? He was… angry. At first at me. Then at the people in the Mountain. He was disillusioned, I think, that his own people could keep him locked away. After a while, the anger faded. We talked. A lot. It was like a dream.”

“Did you bond with him? Like you have with Alex?”

“And you,” she reminded him.

“You’re part of this too. And no. It’s wasn’t the same. We were sharing the same space. With you, I shared everything else.”

That was… vague as usual.

“Why are we here?”

She looked frustrated.

“I don’t know yet. I just know we have to be here.”

“How?” Alex asked.

“How do you know?”

“It wasn’t—we’re not still connected. Not really. That was broken when they forced me out of him. But I think a piece of me remained in him, or a piece of him was in me. Maybe he imprinted on me, or I on him. I don’t know. We were only ever supposed to observe.” Her shoulders slumped.

“I messed up. It’s no wonder they left me behind.”

Nate sighed.

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad, Art. I’m just trying to figure out why we’re here. What the point of this is. This place.” He gave them a quick rundown of the conversation he’d had with Peter outside his office. He didn’t talk about the call of the void. He didn’t tell them about standing on the edge of a Metro platform, the grand what-if of it all. He couldn’t bring himself to share that. But even without that, he realized just how crazy he sounded. It was there, that gut instinct, but what proof did he have to back anything up? So what if Peter was weird? He’d been possessed by a fucking alien for twenty years. Of course he’d be weird.

Alex looked thoughtful when Nate finished talking.

“So… what? You think Peter’s in charge of some kind of cult?”

Nate shook his head.

“I don’t—no. I don’t think he’s a cult leader. I just… Maybe I’m overthinking everything.” He glared at Art and Alex.

“If I sound crazy, the fault rests on both of you.”

“What?” Art said, sounding outraged. “Why?”

“Because all I wanted to do was go sit and brood in my cabin in peace! But no, you two just had to choose to break into that one and then point a gun at me, like, twelve times.”

“Drama queen,” Alex muttered.

“Alex wouldn’t have really shot you,” Art told him.

“Even back then he thought you were cute.”

Alex gaped at her.

She winked at him.

“That is beside the point,” Nate said, though he was going to kiss the hell out of Alex later when no prying eyes watched their every move.

“I’m just—this place gives me the creeps, okay? And maybe it’s nothing. Maybe everything is fine. But it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye open while we’re still here.”

Alex nodded slowly.

“It’s… That’s a good idea. I’m sure it’s fine. But if it’s not, it’s better to be prepared. I’ll start carrying the gun again. Just to be safe. We trust you, Nate.”

Nate absolutely did not preen at that.

“Why are you blushing?” Art asked him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen your face turn that red before.”

“Shut up.”

“Uh-huh.” She glanced between the two of them, a calculating look on her face.

DINNER THAT night was held once again in the front yard. The same lights were strung up in the trees. The same torches were lit. There were the same plates, the same tablecloths. It was again another stew, though the ingredients were different.

Hell, even Billie Holiday was caressing their ears again.

But still. It felt… different.

The air was charged somehow. Like an electrical storm was approaching.

The sky above was clear as the stars began to shine.

The comet looked huge, almost as bright as the moon.

The people of the farm were quiet. Peter had spoken a few words at the beginning of the meal, but it didn’t have the same gravitas as it’d had the night before. He looked distracted. His eyes were wide, and Nate swore he was barely blinking.

Nate didn’t eat.

When the meal was finished, everyone got up to dance again.

They didn’t speak. They clung to each other as they shuffled their feet in the grass.

Peter stayed for a single dance before he disappeared into the house.

“His mind is heavy tonight,” Dolores told Nate as she watched the screen door swing shut.

“Why?”

She looked up at the sky.

“Because sometimes, our choices are laid out in front of us, waiting for a decision to be made.”

HE’D BARELY dozed off when he felt a hand shaking his shoulder.

He opened his eyes.

Art was snoring next to him.

Alex was standing above him, staring down.

He sat up quickly. “What—”

Alex brought a finger to his lips.

Nate fell silent.

Alex jerked his head toward the stairs.

Nate nodded and stood slowly, careful not to jostle the mattress. Art smacked her lips and continued snoring.

He followed Alex down the stairs. He watched the play of muscles on Alex’s back under his shirt in the low light. His skin felt hot. His eyes were heavy.

Alex didn’t lead him to the window from the night before.

Instead, when they reached the barn floor, he took Nate by the hand, pulling him toward the rear of the barn. The moved around bales of hay until they were in a dark corner, out of sight from anyone who could enter. They were steeped in shadows. Nate could barely make out Alex in front of him as he turned, eyes glittering dully in the dark.

“What is it?” Nate asked.

Alex pushed him gently against the barn wall. The wood creaked under his back. A thick thigh was pressed between his legs, a foot kicking them farther apart. He gasped quietly as Alex applied pressure to his groin, heat pooling low in his stomach.

He tilted his head back against the side of the barn.

Lips and teeth trailed along his neck. Alex hadn’t shaved in a few days, and Art was going to figure things out sooner rather than later as his skin felt as if it were being scraped raw.

“You’re going to need to be quiet,” Alex whispered in his ear.

“Do you think you can do that?”

“Why?” Nate asked.

“What do you think you’re going to do?”

He felt Alex’s smile against his cheek.

“What do you think?”

“Art—”

“Is sleeping. And will stay that way if you keep quiet.”

“Pretty goddamn sure of yourself,” Nate whispered, biting back a groan as the thigh on his cock and balls pressed even harder.

“Fucking grunt, huh? Think you’re so goddamn good?”

Alex kissed him then, and it was more than it’d been the night before. At the window, under the stars, it’d been tentative. Unsure. Almost shy. It wasn’t like that now.

Now there was teeth and tongue and a big hand wrapped gently around his throat, holding his head in place as Alex worked his mouth over. Nate felt small and breakable, knowing Alex could most likely snap him in two if he wished. He didn’t resist when he felt pressure on his jaw from a thumb, Alex breaking the kiss as he turned Nate’s head, teeth finding the cords in Nate’s neck, biting down gently.

He couldn’t believe they were doing this now. Here, of all places. Surrounded by the weirdest people he’d ever met in his life. He didn’t know what had gotten into Alex.

But he sure as shit wasn’t complaining, especially when the pressure eased between them slightly, enough for Alex to reach his free hand down between them. He palmed Nate’s dick through his jeans, the ache of it almost too much to bear. Nate groaned again, Alex hissing in his ear that he needed to be quiet. Nate was about to snark something back, to tell him to fuck off and get on with it, but there were two fingers in his mouth then and a voice telling him to suck.

He did. Alex’s skin tasted slightly salty as Nate rolled his tongue against the fingers. Alex had the digits pressed almost to the back of this throat, and Nate’s eyes rolled slightly. Alex snapped open his jeans, and there was a hot hand down the front, groping him roughly. He tried to speak around Alex’s fingers, wanting to tell him it was okay, that he could take it, that he could go harder, but all he managed to do was drool on his chin.

Alex shoved Nate’s jeans down his thighs, effectively trapping his legs. He pressed up against Nate again, still fully clothed, his fingers in Nate’s mouth pressing down against his tongue. He rolled his hips against Nate. The slide of skin against denim made Nate feel like he was burning up.

Nate bit down gently, teeth sinking into Alex’s skin.

Alex grunted near his ear.

“Don’t have anything,” he muttered.

“Nothing that could work and not hurt you. But we’re gonna do something. You trust me?”

Nate nodded, babbling incoherently around Alex’s fingers.

“Good,” he said.

“I’m going to take my fingers out of your mouth. I want you to get my hand as wet as you can. You do that for me, and I promise I’ll make it worth your while. You like the sound of that?”

Yes, Nate said with his eyes, wide and wet. Yes. Yes. Yes.

Alex pulled his fingers out of his mouth with a wet pop. He held the hand in front of Nate’s face.

“Do it, then.”

Nate gathered spit in his mouth and spit on Alex’s hand before licking his palm, spreading his saliva around as best he could. Alex groaned quietly, reaching up to twist Nate’s nipple through his shirt. Nate’s hips jerked at the bright flare of pleasurepain that bowled through him.

“You like that, huh?” Alex whispered. He did it again. Nate moaned against Alex’s hand.

“Yeah. You really do, don’t you? I’m not wet enough. More.”

Nate did.

It only took another minute before Alex pulled his hand away and took a step back. Nate’s heated skin felt sharply cold. He watched as Alex unbuttoned his own jeans and pushed them down around his hips. He used his dry hand to pull his own dick out. Nate could barely make it out in the dark, but he could see the head through Alex’s fist. He watched as Alex hooked a finger under his shirt and rucked it up under his armpits, exposing his hairy torso. Alex spit down. It landed on his dick. He used the hand that Nate had gotten wet to spread their saliva around, coating the length.

“Turn around,” he grunted.

Nate did. He turned his head, cheek pressing against the rough wall of the barn.

“Press your ass out.”

Nate felt a bright flash of shame, or something close to it. He felt exposed, more so than he’d ever been before. He did as Alex told him to do. He felt fingers trace along the crack of his ass, brushing along his hole. He pushed his ass back into the touch. The fingers continued down between his legs until they came to his balls. Alex tugged on them, first one and then the other. It went on for a long minute, Alex pulling, stretching his nuts. Nate was sweating, and harder than he’d ever been in his life.

“Pull your balls forward,” Alex told him.

He did. His thumb pressed against the base of his dick, and he grabbed his balls, pulling them forward.

“Squeeze your thighs together. Hold them tight.”

He got it now. He was on board with this, yes, sir. He pressed his thighs together, letting his balls drop on the front of his legs. His dick bobbed in front of him, the tip hitting the wall. He pushed his hips back a little more. He didn’t need a fucking splinter.

He felt the press of Alex’s dick against the back of his thighs. There was a brief moment of resistance, but then the length of his cock was between his legs, trapped between Nate’s thighs. His cockhead bumped the back of Nate’s balls.

They both groaned at the sensation. Alex gave an experimental thrust, and then another one, and the hairs on Nate’s legs were pulled, little needle pricks that caused his eyes to roll back in his head. He felt Alex pull out almost completely and heard him spit again. It hit the crack of his ass, dripping down. A finger rubbed against it until it pressed between his thighs above Alex’s dick, making it wetter.

“There it is,” Alex breathed as he pressed back in until his hips met Nate’s ass.

“Right there.” He pulled back and pushed in again, dick rubbing along the length of Nate’s taint.

He squeezed his thighs tighter, hearing Alex grunt behind him. Nate’s hands were pressed flat against the wall of the barn, and it was all he could do to just hold on. Alex gripped his hips, the sound of bare skin slapping along with sharp exhalations.

Alex reached around and pressed a hand against his stomach before he was pulled against Alex’s chest. To keep the angle just right, Nate was standing on his tiptoes. He rested his head on Alex’s shoulder as Alex sucked on his neck. He closed his eyes when Alex’s hand wrapped around his dick and began jacking him off in time with each thrust.

Nate reached up behind him and wrapped an arm around the back of Alex’s neck, letting him take the weight.

Alex bit down the moment he came, a warm splash against the back of his balls.

His hips stilled as he panted against Nate’s neck, his orgasm causing him to tremble.

“Please,” Nate managed to say. “Please.”

Alex chuckled darkly before swiping his thumb over Nate’s cockhead. He squeezed Nate’s dick and started jacking him again, his grip tight. Nate fucked Alex’s fist until his thighs were trembling. He grunted as he came, streaks hitting the barn wall in front of him.

They stood there, Nate held tightly against Alex. Nate turned his head until his lips found Alex’s jaw. The angle was awkward, but Alex met him partway.

“Fuck,” Nate muttered as he broke the kiss.

“Jesus Christ. Where the hell did you learn to do that?”

“You make do when you need to,” Alex said, smiling against the side of Nate’s head.

“And I needed to.”

“Yeah. You did.” Nate kissed him again.

THEY CLEANED up as best they could. There was a rain barrel outside in front of the barn. They splashed water on themselves, getting rid of the evidence. It wasn’t ideal, but it’d have to do for now until Nate could shower later. The farmhouse had surprisingly good water pressure, though Nate hadn’t spent long in it that morning, not wanting to waste the hot water when there were so many people living on the farm.

Before he could go back into the barn, Alex stopped him.

He looked back.

Alex said.

“I… Thank you.”

Nate arched an eyebrow.

“I feel like I should be thanking you.”

Alex shook his head.

“Not… for that. But yes, that too, I guess. I mean for… everything. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

Nate smiled. He reached up and cupped the back of Alex’s neck.

“You would have been just fine.”

Alex leaned down, pressing his forehead against Nate’s.

“Maybe. But this—it’s better. This way. With you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Because I’m pretty sure you’re stuck with me.”

Something complicated crossed Alex’s face as he pulled back, but Nate was getting better at reading him. It was disbelief warring with hope.

“This is going to get difficult.”

Nate knew what he meant. They were approaching the end. Or at least an ending. Whatever came after was still in the great beyond. It was nebulous, this future, though there would be a point when it would need to be made clear.

“We’ll figure it out.”

Alex nodded, his brow furrowed.

“There are people who could take us in. After. While we figure out what to do next.”

“People?”

He looked away.

“Friends. Contacts. And I think the story needs to be told. Of Art. Of the Mountain. So everyone knows. And I think you need to be the one to tell it.”

Nate was shocked.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It might be our only chance. Know someone who’ll listen?”

He thought of Ruth, a cigarette dangling from her lips. “I might.”

“Good. We’ll worry about that then. It’ll take time before we can speak. Maybe a long time. And it might make us a bigger target, but there are ways to disappear when you need to.” He sighed and turned his face skyward. Then.

“Would you look at that.”

Nate looked up.

Above him, the comet was blazing, brighter than anything else in the sky.

“Wow,” Nate whispered in awe.

“That’s—that crazy guy. Steven Cooper. He said tomorrow is going to be the brightest the comet will ever be before it starts its sling away.”

“He’s not wrong.”

“Makes you wonder if he knows other things we don’t.”

Alex snorted.

“Maybe. We should get some sleep. Tomorrow we need to figure out where to go next.”

“Okay.”

He let Alex lead him back inside by the hand and back up the stairs. Art hadn’t moved, hair spread out around her on Alex’s rolled-up jacket. Alex squatted beside her, running a hand across her forehead. She leaned into it but continued snoring.

It was there, plain as day.

How much he loved her.

Nate didn’t know why Peter couldn’t see it.

Maybe it had started as transference. But it was beyond that now.

Heartbreak up close. Yeah. No matter what, it was going to happen.

Nate settled down on the mattress. Alex did the same on the other side. Art sighed in her sleep, turning toward Nate. Alex and Nate watched each other over her head.

“Good night,” Nate whispered.

Alex smiled.

And then they slept.

HE AWOKE when a hand pressed tightly over his mouth.

His eyes flashed open.

It was dark.

People were standing above him.

He tried to shout, but it came out muffled.

Something flared to life in his head, a string connecting him to the two people lying next to him. Images flew, coated in anger and fear. He heard the snarl of electricity, and Art was screaming between them and—

A pinprick in his right arm.

Instantly, the world began to melt around him.

He couldn’t move his arms.

His legs.

“Shh,” Oren Schraeder/Peter Williams whispered above him.

“It’s time, Nate. It’s time. It’s time for us to leave this world and take our place amongst the stars.”

Nate struggled to keep his eyes open even as Alex shouted weakly somewhere off to his left.

But it was no use.

Everything bled together until he was gone, gone, gone.