Chapter 2
2
Anna
“What is this?” I ask, staring down at the prettiest knife I’ve ever seen, attempting to look bored with it.
It’s silver, sharp as fuck, and decorated with little metal vines around the hilt. Drak just wordlessly handed it over to me a few seconds after interrupting my peace and quiet. I was going to snap at him to leave me alone, but I couldn’t exactly do that holding something of his.
Drak, never one to be deterred by my attitude, simply grins. “It is for you, I made it this morning. Do you like it?”
“You… made this?” I echo, hardly believing my ears. Why the hell would Drak craft me a knife?
“I did,” he agrees happily. “I mended some of your hu-nim metal with the superior Aprixian material along the edge. So it is not too heavy but very sharp like my own. Do you like it?”
Do I like it? It’s the single best thing anyone has ever given to me, let alone made for me with their bare hands.
“It’s nice,” I say, settling on the neutral but positive response. It’s hard to be rude to Drak when he’s being so fucking sweet. Ugh, why can’t he be a dickhead like every other man in existence?
Drak beams with the biggest smile, like I just kissed him or something.
Clearing my throat before this gets awkward, I sheath the blade back into its leather casing and secure it to my belt. “Thank you,” I add, hoping it doesn’t encourage him to do this more. I don’t need anything from him, even if I love the knife.
“You are welcome, Mean One,” he sing-songs happily. Since the sun is nearly set, he tips back his head at the sky, assessing it. “The stars are coming out, will you let me observe them with you again?”
I want to tell him hell no , but refrain. I don’t own the fucking roof, he can sit up here if he wants.
“Do what you want, Drak,” I drawl, resiting the urge to pull my new knife out and stare at it like it’s a damn treasure chest full of gold.
Satisfied with my answer, he bobs his head once. His big, stupidly handsome alien head. I don’t understand how the Aprixian’s are nice to look at, they just are. Okay, that’s a bit of a lie, of course I understand it.
They’re just like huge multi-colored humans with pointy ears and thick bodies of muscle. From what I’ve learned, the Aprixians come in rainbow colors. Different shades and tones of blues, greens, pinks, yellows, reds, purples, and so on. Drak, in particular, is like some kind of alien warrior playboy. His face is kind but sharp. Because while his eyes are soft, his jaw and cheekbones are hard. He’s green like wintergreen tree leaves, darker at night and brighter under the sun’s rays.
I’ve spent a lot of time trying not to look at Drak, but if I’m honest, he’s the person I see the most.
I wake up in the morning and go to eat breakfast, boom, he’s the only other person in the house that’s awake. I’m going to see the stars? He’s already on the roof. I want to go let off some steam by killing zombies? He’s volunteering to take me before I can even ask. Drak is a thorn in my side, but fuck, I’m hardly trying to pull out the barb.
“An-nana, how are you feeling on this day?” he asks casually, but there’s a slight concern in his tone.
“I’m fine,” I mutter, not bothering to ask how he is. He’ll tell me anyway.
“I am great,” he reports, right on cue. “I missed making weapons, it is much harder with Urth’s horrible technology selection, but I was able to make it work.”
It’s hard to take offense to the Aprixian’s considering Earth underdeveloped when they have spaceships, laser guns, and the ability to make fully robotic arms.
“Great,” I reply, tone less than enthusiastic. He should have made himself a knife, giving it to me is stupid. What the hell do I deserve it for?
“An-nana, are you sad?” he asks bluntly.
“No, Drak,” I lie. “I’m not sad.”
He hums, his gaze burning into the side of my face. “Is there something on your mind? You have not given me your anger once today.”
Because you gave me a gift, and I’d feel guilty if I did.
“I’m fine , Drak. Leave me alone.”
“No,” he huffs. “I will not.”
I cock an eyebrow at him, and he shrugs. “I wish to know what saddens you.”
Yeah, Drak, you wish to know everything.
“I do not like to see you frown.”
I’m not frowning, I want to snap. But I probably am.
“I wish to help—” he tries to add, but it’s too much. I cut him off before my head explodes with everything I keep inside just for me.
“I want to go find my brothers, alright?” My frustrated confession rolls off of my tongue like venom. It’s loud, so loud that my voice cracks on the last word and my ears give a small pop at the expansion of my jaw.
I don’t like being overly snappy. Cold, aloof, standoffish, and prone to violence, sure. I’m able to recognize my typical not-so sunshiney attitude. This is not that. It’s something entirely different, and I don’t know how to stop it. If I keep shouting like this, I’m going to toss myself into a pit of zombies just to make myself shut up. Humans being able to annoy themselves is a serious design flaw.
And I’m experiencing double—no, triple—the annoyance. I’m irritated with my yelling, uncontrollably overwhelmed by Drak, and annoyed with myself for letting him affect me. I’m even a bit upset with myself for snapping at him , though I don’t apologize for it. I just… this alien drives me nuts!
An-nana this, An-nana that.
What are you thinking of, Mean One?
Ah! Mean One, will you hunt with me this day?
An-nana, you look ferociously lovely in blood.
God, he makes me so…
Ugh.
All day today he’s been bugging me, and I just finally got a break from him when I came up here. He’d been chatting my ear off for hours before that. Asking why I don’t want to talk, why I don’t want to practice with his blades, what food I want, why I want so little of it—it’s never ending.
Can’t a girl have a bad day without being pestered by a big-ass alien man begging for her attention? I like to sulk, in peace .
All week the reality that my family is likely dead has been weighing heavier and heavier on me. I had excuses before, to not search for them. I couldn’t leave my sorority unprotected—lord knows those girls don’t know shit about fighting off the undead.
But it’s been nearly two months since six huge alien warriors showed up and started guarding us like precious jewels. The pricks stole every responsibility of mine, moved on in at the invitation of my more terrified roommates, and two of them fell fucking in love. My stomach twists just thinking about it.
Nevertheless, the Aprixians—minus Rem and Marrec who have taken Sarah and Stevie to their planet—are staying. At least, they’re staying until we decide to go. They have an unflinching moral code when it comes to women. They won’t leave us unprotected, even if we never want to go. They’ll die guarding us on a destroyed planet before leaving any of us behind. Trust me, I’ve asked.
So now they’re here, keeping us safe, and that means there’s nothing preventing me from searching for my family. Except for the fact that I’m not sure I can handle the difference between assuming they’re all dead, and being sure they’re all dead. What a nightmare.
“And keep your mouth shut about it,” I add, harshly warning him as I lay down against the cold roof to watch the stars. “I don’t want to hear everyone say how ridiculous it is.”
Drak, never understanding personal space, looms over me, blocking out the night sky with his hulking frame. His thick, defined brows pull in, and I know he’s confused.
“What is ridiculous? You wish to see your family, this is not strange to me.”
I sigh, but don’t kick him in the balls, even though I could from this angle. He’s bent at the waist but his knees are straight as he peers down at me curiously.
“They’re probably dead, Drak,” I state dryly. “It would be stupid to waste the time and the resources to search for dead people. They’re probably fucking zombies, so?—”
“This I do not believe,” he interrupts. “Your family is a fierce one, An-nana. They share your blood, and you have been crafted amongst them. The zom-bays will not have conquered them just as they have not conquered you.”
I want to punch him in the face, or maybe hug him for his open confidence and the treacherous hope it fills me with.
“There is no waste,” Drak adds, considering my previous words. “We have endless supplies and much time. You wish to hunt for your brothers? I will take you.”
“You’re making fun of me,” I accuse, curling my lip upward.
He huffs. “I do not make you anything. Mean One, if you are fun, it is because you are fun. I hold no power over you. It is as troubling as it is true.”
“Making fun of me,” I correct. “Teasing me, turning my problem into a joke.”
As frustrated as I get with Drak, I do try to explain things he doesn’t comprehend in English. It’s not fair to be mad at him when he can’t understand why. It’s not fair to be mad at him in general most of the time, but we can’t all be Saints, can we?
“I do not tease you,” he denies softly. “I wish to take you to your brothers. I am a superior hunter—” he pauses to smirk “—as you know. Why should we not go?”
My whole body tingles with a shiver, and I swallow back some sort of emotion.
“Maybe I don’t want you to come.”
He snorts like the thought is ridiculous. “An-nana, you will not leave without me. Who would keep you safe?”
My nostrils flare. “ I will keep me safe.”
His chuckle has me rethinking my decision to allow him into my space.
“Mean One, you are stubborn but you are also smart. You would not go without me.” He’s so sure of himself, and goddammit, I wish he were wrong. “I will make it much easier for you simply by standing at your side. None of your zom-bays will seek us out.”
Resigned, I turn my head to the side, ignoring his glimmering eyes. “I don’t want to go anyway. It’s a dumb idea, and I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
In a rare turn of events, Drak catches my hint. He rolls onto his back at my side and changes the subject effortlessly. “Do you wish to speak of B’rook’s pet? It is very ugly, not soft or smart like Ch’ta.”
Rem’s space cat is not a good comparison to Brooke’s ‘ pet’, if you can even call it that. Harold is the result of Brooke being tired of cooking canned meat. Mention to the Aprixians that you want a real chicken, and apparently, they’ll fucking find one.
Brooke should have taken into account the fact that she did not want to kill and butcher the thing before complaining about preserved chicken meat. To her credit, no one expected that livestock was even an option until the alien bros presented one to her a week ago.
So now we have what must be the last chicken on Earth, waddling around our fenced-in yard like some kind of pet . It takes a lot of learned patience and practiced social cues to not cut the little guy’s head off and fry him up for dinner. He would be delicious, but Drak is right—he is ugly.
Also, I’m not entirely convinced that the chicken isn’t carrying some kind of virus like the zombie one as it is. Apparently, I’m too paranoid to take the risk.
“Yes, Harold is very ugly,” I agree. “I prefer beef anyway, and no, I really don’t want you to fetch me a cow.”
“Cow is the Moo animal, yes?” he asks, grinning like he already knows he’s correct and he’s proud.
“Yes.”
He hums, pleased with himself. “Is the Moo animal your favorite creature?”
“To eat, sure,” I grumble. “I don’t have a favorite creature. They’re either useful, food, or I don’t think about them.”
Drak finds this amusing, letting out a hardy laugh. “R’win are my favorite creature. They are very small and soft to touch, but they are very unkind to strangers.” He pokes my arm playfully. “Much like you, An-nana.”
Ignoring his comparison, I let out a breath. “What do they look like?”
“Hmmm,” he rumbles, considering this. “Hu-nims have small puppies, yes? I have seen pictures of these. R’win are like tiny puppies, with floppy ears, large eyes, and curly tails. Oh, and they are orange.”
“I can’t see you petting something so tiny and soft,” I comment. I see Drak carrying more metal than anything else. Swords, knives, guns, and so on. He’s a weapons nerd.
I can hear him puff up his chest. “If Ch’ta were still here I could show you that I am very good with soft little creatures. They love me.”
My eyes roll, and I look at him. “You think everyone loves you.”
He stiffens ever so slightly. “No,” Drak says quietly. “I do not think that everyone loves me.”
Foot in mouth.
These guys come from a planet with a huge population of men and a small number of women. Most of the guys die without ever kissing a woman let alone loving one. Feeling guilty for the comment, I hope my face isn’t too red, but I don’t turn away.
“If you’re going to help me find my family, we’re going to need a plan.”
His responding grin hits me right in the heart.