Chapter 6
Feet Straight. Head turned. Bow at eye level. Deep breath. Release.
And miss.
She only remembered bits and pieces from the archery lessons she took at camp once when she was younger, but it still didn't seem to be working. Grace hadn't hit the target once. Her father and brother didn't seem to be doing much better. She could hear Hal cursing under his breath every time the arrow whipped past the centre of the crudely drawn figure and landed in the bushes behind. The three of them had been learning how to kill skitters quietly in order to rescue Ben from the hospital without being noticed, but right now they seemed hopeless at it. Grace always felt safer with a gun in her hand anyway. She went to grab another arrow from the crate in front of them when a sharp pain suddenly made her wince.
"Maybe you should take it easy," Tom suggested as he glanced up from his own bow. "Those skitter claws went pretty deep."
"I'm fine," murmured Grace, placing the arrow on her bow. "I can do this."
Tom hesitated. "I mean maybe you should sit this one out – getting Ben. We can handle it."
"What? No, I'm not sitting out. I'm fine. Doctor Glass even said so. They're just a few scratches, dad."
He hardly even blinked, staring at her with that familiar look of worry he so often had on his face these days. "It was more than that."
"Why are you so worried about me anyway? What about Hal? He's the one you should be worried about. What he saw..."
"I can hear you," said Hal, beside her. "And I'm fine too. I'm over it. I'll be even better once we get Ben back."
Angry, Grace released another bow. To her surprise, it hit just to the edge of the figure's head. Hal looked at her, impressed, and she smiled triumphantly.
"You belong in medieval times," Maggie quipped, emerging behind them and giving Grace a timid smile.
"Oh, hey," she replied.
Hal explained to Maggie what they were doing while Tom collected the arrows. "Got any pointers?" asked Hal.
Grace watched as Maggie got close to Hal and showed him how to stand. She was less interested in the method Maggie was trying to teach him and more intrigued by the way Hal responded to her as she softly instructed him and adjusted his stance. He looked almost too accepting of her advances, and Grace had the uncomfortable urge to tug her away from him.
"You feel that? Mm-hmm. Okay. There. And it's a slow, steady pull on the trigger, and the kick comes from the front."
Another miss. Hal glanced down, embarrassed, and Grace raised an eyebrow. Well, at least he wasn't thinking about Karen anymore.
"Here's another idea - make sure you're close," smirked Maggie.
Hal didn't often blush, but if he had ever been close, this was it. Grace still wasn't sure what to make of Maggie, but she definitely had something about her if she could make Hal seem bashful. Maybe she ought to keep an eye on her.
Especially now it seemed like Maggie knew the hospital's layout, pointing out to Tom which was the best ways in and out of the building on a crumpled map. She'd barely been here five minutes and she was already taking over their missions. It took months for Grace to be allowed to fight, but then again she had Tom Mason as a father. Anyway, maybe it was a good thing. The way Grace saw it, anything that helped get her brother out of there safely was a positive.
But if things went wrong, she'd know who to blame.
As Grace walked through the school's corridors, she tried to rehearse in her head how to use her bow and arrow. It still felt so foreign to her. Holding a rifle or glock had become so much more natural to her now. At least if it didn't work, she still had the knife which was tied around her ankle, concealed in her boot. If she got close enough, she would be able to defend herself – but that wouldn't guarantee she could kill it, and without making a disturbance. She thought back to the skitter that attacked her on their first failed rescue mission, how all those direct hits hardly made an impact. Those things didn't go down easy. That she definitely knew for sure as she traced a hand along the scars on her torso.
"You okay?"
The female voice made her jump, even though the owner had spoken softly. Grace turned her head to see a civilian woman with long dark hair, staring at her through soft, blue eyes.
"I'm fine," said Grace. "Wish everyone would stop being so concerned about me and start thinking about what's important."
The woman's gaze dropped awkwardly. "Sorry. Didn't mean anything by it." She started off down the hall when Grace sighed and told her to wait.
"I'm sorry. I'm just...stressed. That's all. What's your name?"
The woman smiled. "Casey. Casey Taylor."
Grace mimicked the smile. "I'm -"
"I know who you are. You're Tom Mason's daughter, right? I've met your dad. I like him. He's a good guy."
"Yeah. He is."
"I heard you're going to look for your brother again soon. Ben, is it?"
"Yeah."
"I'm sorry about what happened to him. I hope you find him."
"Thanks."
Casey gave her another brief smile. It looked like she was about to turn away again when the two of them heard a commotion in the lab nearby. They gave each other a momentary confused glance before a deadly scream started to echo down the halls.
Grace took off running, pulling the glock from her holster. Casey followed close behind. They burst through the lab door to find Michael Harris crumpled on the floor, bleeding, the skitter standing over him from inside its cage.
Grace couldn't move. She stared at the doctor, unsure what to do, what to think. His lifeless eyes gazed up at her, glassy and cold. Casey dropped down next to him, then she glanced back up at Grace with fear in her eyes.
He was dead.
Grace couldn't close her eyes without seeing him. Doctor Harris. Lying motionless on the floor with that skitter leering over him, his neck broken and bloody. She was almost sick remembering it. It had happened so fast. In the end he had suffered the fate he had left her mother to endure. And Grace felt...what did she feel? Happy? Relieved? No. She just felt empty. Maybe even angry, but not at Doctor Harris – at the things that were killing them. The skitters, aliens, whatever they were. How easy it was for them, taking life, enslaving children. Was it really in their nature to be this cruel? Maybe that's why it was called humanity. Monsters didn't have an ounce of it.
Casey handed her a bottle of water and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"How are you feeling?"
Grace took a swig from the bottle, the cool liquid soothing her dry throat. After the incident, Anne had come in with a group and told Casey to take Grace away. She'd barely said anything until now.
Taking a deep breath, Grace began to tell Casey her history with the doctor. "Six months ago, Doctor Harris left me and my mom to die." She took a deep breath. She hadn't told many people. Matt didn't know. He didn't need to. But Hal knew, and Tom of course. And everyone who witnessed Grace's breakdown upon seeing Doctor Harris again. The story to everyone else had been that Rebecca Mason had just simply died from a skitter attack, and Michael Harris had never been mentioned again. Until now, until he suddenly showed up on the doorstep of the Second Mass expecting all to be forgiven. "Back then I wanted him to die. I wish he had died instead of my mom. And now he is dead and...I don't feel anything."
Casey sat down next to her, listening with patience and sympathy – but most of all, understanding. "Maybe we've all seen enough death lately. It's hard to know what we feel anymore," she said softly.
Grace looked over at her. "Yeah." She sighed. "I think you're right."
"Hey, Grace, you okay?" Hal steamed into the room, obviously concerned about his older's sister's well-being.
Tom followed closely behind. "We heard about what happened."
Casey squeezed Grace's arm supportively before making her exit. Grace smiled appreciatively at her and then assured Tom and Hal, once again, that she was fine.
"I'm glad that son-of-a-bitch is gone. After what he did to you and mom, he deserved to die."
"Hal," snapped Tom. He gave his son a disapproving look.
Hal shrugged as if he'd done nothing wrong. "Just saying. The man was a coward."
Grace looked up at them, dread in her expression as she realised something. "But what about Ben – the procedure to remove his harness?"
"Don't worry about that," Tom insisted. "Anne will take care of Ben. But first we've gotta get him."
Grace noticed the two of them exchanging solemn looks, as if they were hiding something from her.
"What? What is it?"
"There's been a change of plans," sighed Tom, doubt clouding his expression.
"I'm going to go in after Ben, alone," added Hal. "I'll use Rick's harness, pretend I'm one of them."
Grace shot to her feet immediately. "No. No way. It's too dangerous."
"Come on, I've already been through all of this with dad," complained Hal. "You're not going to change my mind."
"You agreed to this?" Grace asked her father, appalled.
"I haven't agreed to anything yet," replied Tom. "We're still figuring things out."
"What is there to figure out?" Hal said impatiently. "Doctor Glass showed us how to kill them – the soft palate thing?"
"Okay, what is he talking about?" interrupted Grace.
"The skitter that killed Harris, Anne killed it," explained Tom. "She figured out they have some sort of soft palate at the back of their throats. Hit that and..."
"You can knock it unconscious, or kill it," finished Hal. "Grace, it's no big deal. I've just got to get close enough, then I can grab Ben and we can get outta there."
Grace breathed sharply through her nose, thinking. "Then I'll do it. I'm stealthier than you. I don't drag my heels when I walk."
Hal rolled his eyes. "I already told you, I'm doing it."
"And I told you, I'll do it. You'll get yourself killed."
"I'm not having this conversation." Hal went to leave when Tom grabbed his jacket and pulled him back.
"I'm not happy about either of you doing it, but it was Hal's idea – he should go get Ben. We'll be waiting close by if anything goes wrong."
"Thank you," Hal exclaimed with relief. "Now that that's settled, maybe we can prep for the mission."
Grace watched her brother leave with a mixture of anger and worry. She felt Tom place a gloved hand on her shoulder. "I know you're worried about him. I am too. About all of you. But you're all just as stubborn as each other, it's no use arguing."
Grace looked down at her boots. "I know, it's just, I don't want to watch anyone else getting hurt. I don't want to lose anyone else."
"I know. Me neither, sweetheart." He put an arm round her and kissed her head. "Me neither."
The moon streamed through the trees, casting an eerie light on the group as they hid behind an abandoned car. Grace shivered – she wasn't sure if it was because of the cold or because of something else. She clutched her bow and arrow close to her, peering around the car at the patrolling mech, marching right passed the ER.
"Something's wrong," she whispered to her father, who was crouched down next to her. "Hal should have given us the signal by now. Something must have gone wrong."
"We don't know that."
She paused a beat. She couldn't wait a minute longer. "I'm going in after him." She put her bow strap over her shoulder and got to her feet, only to have Tom pull her back down.
"Wait a minute...I'll come with you."
"Cover us," she told Anthony.
"Sure thing."
"Look out for the signal," Tom instructed.
Hearts racing, the two of them ran for the ER entrance. The loud thumps of a mech's thunderous footsteps halted them. Tom pulled Grace into the shadows, behind another car. They waited for the ground to stop shaking, until the mechanical beast had made its way past.
Then Maggie's sudden appearance made Grace jump.
"Got a plan?" she questioned, propping up against the rear wheel.
"Know another way in?" Tom asked her.
"Follow me."
The mech's loud groans almost drowned her voice out. All three of them slowly crawled around the side of the car to avoid being spotted.
Then, running as fast as they could, they made it to the building. Darkness welcomed them as they crept towards the doors and slipped in. The hospital looked dim and abandoned, almost as if time had simply just stopped. There were still boards hung up with the patient's scheduled surgeries, still gurneys and wheelchairs placed around, unused. Grace and Tom followed Maggie through to the children's ward where eerie murals of cartoon animals stared back at them in the shadows.
Passing one of the rooms, Grace heard a choking noise. Hovering a hand over her knife, she peered around the door to see Hal with his back propped up against the wall, struggling to breathe.
"Hal? Hal, what's wrong?"
He could hardly speak, he was staring at something behind her, so she quickly turned around and gasped at what she saw – the bodies of several children lay in a pile in the middle of the room. No doubt the children Hal had witnessed being killed the other day, their corpses dumped here without any further need for them. Then the smell hit her nostrils and she almost gagged.
Hal slid to the floor, his face red and his chest rising and falling quickly. His eyes were wide and wet. His lips stammered, but no words would come out. Just then Tom and Maggie found them. Tom rushed to his son, his hands on the boy's shoulders.
"What's wrong with him?" Grace tried to whisper, but the anxiety in her voice was clear.
"Looks like a panic attack. He'll be alright." Tom looked behind him, noticing the bodies. He grimaced. "Hal, listen to me. It's alright. I'm here. Deep breaths."
"PTSD," Maggie said. "Must have triggered something."
"I'm...I'm...I..." Hal said breathlessly. He buried his head in his hands.
"He's not going anywhere in this state," said Grace. "Give me the harness. I'll go."
"Now wait a minute..." Tom started, but Grace swiftly interrupted him.
"There's no time. Give me the harness."
Tom sighed in defeat, carefully taking the harness off Hal and handing it to Grace. Maggie helped fit the harness to her back. The feeling of it made Grace shudder, as if someone had attached a foreign limb to her.
"Stay with him," Grace told her father, glancing back to her shivering brother.
"I'll follow you," offered Maggie. "In case you need back-up."
Grace nodded.
"Be careful," warned Tom.
The two women returned to the corridor and hid behind the nurses station. Footsteps. A lot of them. Grace peered over the edge and saw a line of kids walking through the halls, single-file, following a skitter. At the back of the queue was her little brother, Ben. Eyes still distant. Movements as automatic as the robotic mechs patrolling outside. She turned her head towards Maggie who nodded at her. It was now or never. Grace took a deep breath and then snuck towards the line, quietly joining behind Ben. Her heart was pounding. Ben was so close, she could grab him right there and then, but she resisted. She tried whispering his name, but there was no response. The skitter guided them to an empty room where the kids then began to lie on the floor.
Grace didn't know what this was, but she didn't like it. She took Ben's hand.
"Ben...Ben can you hear me?"
Empty eyes gazed upon her. It was her brother, but at the same time it wasn't him at all. She wanted to shake him, strike him, whatever it took to wake him up from whatever this was. He pulled his hand away and stooped to the floor. She knelt down next to him. As the skitter crawled towards them, she realised with horror that it was perching over them, like a mother hen watching over her brood.
What the hell was this?
The other harnessed kids had curled up underneath the skitter, eyes closed, already falling asleep. Grace slowly copied, every inch of her screaming at her to just grab Ben and run as fast as she could from this.
The skitter's long, scaly finger traced the side of her face and Grace held her breath as hard as she could. She squeezed her eyes shut, her mind racing. Get off me, get off me, get off me. Opening one eye, she watched the skitter's own eyes shut slowly as it drifted off to sleep. She'd never seen this in a skitter before. She'd seen skitters asleep upside down under bridges, but this? This seemed a lot more...human. Even if everything else about this situation seemed completely messed up. She tugged on Ben's shirt to wake him.
"Ben...wake up," she said quietly, "listen to me. We have to go. Ben?" Very gently, she crawled herself towards him and took his face in her hands. "You have to get up now. We're getting you out of here."
Ben's eyes shot open and she smiled with relief. But then his harness started to glow.
"Ben?"
The boy's hand grabbed her throat and started to squeeze.
"Ben..." Grace choked helplessly. "Stop...stop it."
Ben got to his feet, lifting her by the throat. Gradually, the other children woke up and watched as Ben strangled the life out of his sister. Grace could see the skitter from the corner of her eye, watching, controlling this.
"Ben, please," she struggled, her face burning red as the force on her throat tightened. He had gotten so strong, Grace's feet were almost off the ground. Her vision was blurring; her lungs craving oxygen.
Suddenly Hal burst into the room, grabbing Ben.
"Ben, stop it!" he yelled.
The younger Mason brother released his sister, causing her to stumble back into the skitter. It forced her to the floor. Grace struggled beneath it, trying to push away its arms, its face as it tried to get close to hers. She screamed. She was vaguely aware of Tom behind the skitter, trying to pull it off of her, but it was too strong. The adrenaline pulsed through her, the wounds on her torso throbbed with pain. The knife, she kept thinking, get the knife. She tried to force the skitter away with one arm, the other lowering to her boot where her knife was concealed. She struggled, stretching her arm as far as it would go, her fingers barely touching the edge of the knife. She tried to move her leg towards her, a battle under the skitter's heavy weight, but she succeeded. Grabbing the knife, she held the skitter's head and stabbed the weapon inside its large, slimy mouth.
It put up one hell of a fight. The beast's claws went for her face, screeching and flailing, trying to force her away, but Grace pushed the knife in deeper, deeper, as far as she could. Blood spilled all over arm, and as grotesque as the situation was, she told herself not to back down. She felt the knife dig deep into something, and the skitter dropped. Dead.
Tom pulled the alien's corpse off of her, Grace tugging her slimy, bloody hand out of the its mouth. It was only then she saw all the children, Ben included, with their arms out towards the skitter, as if they were concerned for it.
"Are you alright?" Tom asked her, pulling her to her feet. He quickly inspected the pink marks around her neck from where Ben had strangled her.
"I'm good. Let's get Ben home."
Tom went to check on Ben while Maggie left to see if the coast was clear. Grace gave the guys outside the signal, shining the flashlight out through the window. Anthony and Dai appeared seconds afterwards, opening the window so that they could pass the kids up to them.
But when Grace turned around, it looked like none of them wanted to go. They were mourning over the dead skitter. Even her little brother, his hands reaching out for the body, like he cared for the monster that had enslaved him. Tom pulled him up.
"I'm taking you home, Ben," his father promised him. "We're taking all of you."
TBC
