Chapter Ten
Awakening to cheery morning sun, the chitter of birdsong, and cool, woodsy air, Chloe realized she’d forgotten to close the windows before going to bed.
She raised her arms and flexed her feet in a full-body stretch.
A solid night’s sleep had done wonders for her spirit, although thigh and butt muscles held a grudge after days of pedaling.
She’d stay off the bike today. There was no urgency anymore, no deadline.
She could rest for a day or two then cruise into Big Creek and try to find her mom’s friend’s house—or maybe pick out another place to live.
Or, she could stay here until the water ran out.
I have options. First on the agenda was breakfast. She’d spotted oatmeal in the pantry.
She could cook it in a pot on the barbecue. Hot cereal had never sounded so good.
She stretched again and rolled over.
A Progg lay sleeping in the bed.
She screamed.
“Pikur zok vinik okum!” The alien jackknifed, grabbed a vaporizer, and aimed it at her.
“No!” She leaped up and backed into the corner, clutching a pillow to her chest—as if that could save her. This is it. This is how it ends.
He was huge—at least a foot taller than her five-foot-six, broad in shoulder with beefy muscles. His skin gleamed like polished silver, and there was a lot of it. Oh, god. She dragged her gaze away from his partial morning erection. Disconcertingly humanlike blue eyes locked on hers.
Why hasn’t he killed me yet?
“Que faites-vous ici?” he said in a deep, resonating, accented baritone.
French? They speak French? However, she did not parle francais—she could only recognize the language when she heard it.
“?Qué estás haciendo aquí?” Spanish now. He was trying different languages. “What are you doing here? Do you not understand me?” he said in English.
He hit the right language, and she found her voice. A shaky one. “I was sleeping.” Maybe I still am. Please let this be a nightmare. Wake up, Chloe! Wake up!
He fixed an assessing gaze on her face with those too-human inhuman eyes. “Did no one warn you it’s dangerous to approach a Progg?”
“Word got out, yes.”
He hadn’t lowered the vaporizer, but she was still alive.
“And yet, you chose this dwelling.”
“The house was vacant when I arrived. I checked.” Why didn’t I sleep with a weapon? A baseball bat. A can of hairspray. Bug spray. A flashlight heavier than the dinky one she’d dropped on the floor beside the bed. If her scream hadn’t awakened him, she could have brained him.
Note to self: get a gun.
She clutched the pillow tighter. He’d lost his partial erection, which brought a small measure of relief.
She hadn’t heard of the aliens raping anybody, but perhaps no one lived to report it.
With some surprise, she noticed he lacked testicles—at least, they weren’t outside his body.
His skin glowed like liquid silver, but there was a puckered gray patch on his left thigh and right shoulder that reminded her of bullet wounds—not that she’d ever seen one.
Other than holding her at vaporizer point, he hadn’t made any threatening moves, so she said, “I’ll be going now” and inched her way along the window wall.
“No.”
Fuck.
He cocked his head and eyed her for long, terrifying seconds. “You will help me.”
“No. Kill me now. I won’t help you.” Her knees shook.
“You don’t know what I want.”
“You want me to find people so you can vaporize them.”
“I want you to find my brother.”
She blinked. “How would I know where your brother is?”
“You don’t. But I have reason to believe he may be in this area, and you would be familiar with the cities and towns.”
“Actually, I’m n—” She’d visited St. Louis many times but not the southwest part of Missouri.
If she told him that, she would be of no use to him.
With her map, she could figure out where the towns were, but that would involve helping him.
One Progg was bad enough—but two? Finding his brother sounded like a crock.
Even if true, what guarantee would there be he wouldn’t vaporize people they might encounter along the way?
“No, I won’t help you.”
She flinched when he moved, but he picked up a pair of dark-gray pants from the floor. Maintaining a grip on the weapon, he dressed.
With almost deliberate slowness, he snapped a holster around his hips and tucked the weapon into it and pulled a shirt over his head. She couldn’t read him. What now? What is he thinking?
* * * *
How can I keep her?
The female smelled of fear. If she had encountered any other Progg, she’d be dead now. Duty demanded he eliminate her, but he did not have a stomach for killing. Knife didn’t count. But beyond his ignominious weakness, he did not wish to kill this particular woman.
He had the strangest urge to ensure her safety, keep her near—at least for a little while.
Aside from the sour odor of fear, she smelled sweet and warm, like belonging and home.
He realized it had been her scent that had drawn him into the room and lulled him to sleep.
Since he couldn’t bring himself to kill her, he should step aside and let her go.
Except he’d never see her again.
He could use help in finding Grav, but he could muddle through on his own, and he suspected this woman would hinder more than help.
“You lead me to nearby cities, and when I find him or I’m done searching, I’ll release you.”
“And if I don’t?” The acrid scent of fear spiked.
He’d let her go anyway. What else could he do? He couldn’t kill her any more than he could the church family. But he could leverage her fear. “Then I take you with me anyway—and I don’t let you go,” he lied.
“Why? What do you want of me? I will not betray my fellow humans. I will do everything in my power to warn them. You won’t be able to use me to sneak up on them.”
“I told you—I only want to find my brother. And I wish to get to know a human in a genuine way.” Not any human, her.
She set the pillow she clutched like a shield onto the bed.
Defenses are coming down. The blue drawing of the naked woman on Knife’s arm popped into his head, and he wondered if this woman resembled that picture underneath the loose shirt. He couldn’t tell.
Her bare legs were several shades lighter than her face and arms. Brown hair, roughly parted on the side, tangled around her shoulders. She was an alien being, but he didn’t find her appearance ugly, just interesting. And her scent…his nostrils flared.
She crossed her arms. “What happens if we meet another human?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” she scoffed.
“I understand your skepticism, but I assure you, I will allow them to go untouched—provided they do not attack me,” he added. “I will defend myself if I have to.”
“Can I trust you?” she asked.
“Can I trust you?” he countered. Probably not. She would flee at the first opportunity—and she might even try to kill him. But he still wanted to keep her with him for as long as he could.
“I don’t have a choice, do I?”
She did, but she didn’t know it. “No,” he lied.
“Two weeks,” she said. “I’ll accompany you for two weeks. I’m not going to be stuck with you for the rest of my life. I’d rather die.”
An understandable sentiment, but it stung. “One month,” he countered.
For a long moment, she said nothing. She gazed out the window, her face unreadable. Then her shoulders sagged. “Fine. One month.”
“Agreed.” He stifled a smile. He had something to look forward to. As long as she doesn’t kill me.
* * * *
The woman boiled water on an outdoor grill, dumped in some grains, and cooked it to a gooey mash. Rok sniffed at his bowl. No meat, at least. It didn’t look appetizing, but it couldn’t be any worse than the breakfast gruel at MEC or field rations.
To his relief, because the inside still reeked of meat, they ate outside at a table and chairs on the wooden deck. The morning was cool, fresh, and calm. Dew coated the grass, and the scent of the woods perfumed the air.
The woman heaped brown granular material and some shriveled black berries atop the gruel in her bowl.
“What is that?”
“Brown sugar and raisins.”
He watched how much she used and followed suit. She stirred. He stirred. She ate a spoonful.
He hesitantly took a bite. “It’s good!” Sweet, chewy. He took a bigger spoonful and chewed with enjoyment. “What is this called?”
“Oatmeal. It would be better with a little milk.”
He made a face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Milk is an animal product.”
“Yeah, so?”
“We do not eat animals, nor any products that come from them.”
“Let me get this straight.” She waved her spoon. “You came to Earth, killed an entire animal species—homo sapiens—but you don’t eat animal flesh?”
“What does one have to do with the other?”
She shook her head and resumed eating.
“If we are going to be together for a month, perhaps we should exchange names. I’m Rok.”
She swallowed and then drank from a cup filled with dark-brown liquid. It smelled good, but he’d taken a sip of his and found it vile. “Chloe,” she offered.
“Chloe,” he repeated. Exotic. He liked how it felt to say it.
“How is it you speak our languages?”
He tapped his head behind his ear. “Translator. I can speak all the major Earth languages.” Officers had them; most foot soldiers did not, but Rok—thinking he would rise in rank faster than he had—had petitioned to get the implant sooner.
“Do you know what fuck you means?” she asked.
“It is an insulting reference to a carnal act.”
“Good. I wouldn’t want there to be any misunderstanding in the future.”
He had a hunch she just insulted him now.
“Do you have a specific town in mind?”
“No. That’s what I need you for.”
“The town of Big Creek is up the road a few miles. We can start there.”
“If that’s what you think is best,” he said.