FIVE YEARS LATER

They'd deflected from the city ages ago. They were a small troupe, not much worth bragging about, but damn if they weren't lucky. Addie crept along beside Luke through the woods. It was better to stay hidden if possible and the trees provided a nice cover. But as the group moved on, the trees became thinner and thinner until the indentation of a former road began to emerge.

The trees opened up onto a field nearly an arena in size and shape. Flanked in an incongruent shape by a fence of trees. They'd emerged from the foothills of a mountain onto a large, overgrown field. Luke moved forward, leading the team along. It seemed to end abruptly into a single dirt lane, the grass in the ditches was dry from drought.

He didn't like them being out in the open, especially not knowing where the road came from, or where it led to, but ever the brave leader, Luke swallowed his fears and led them along the path.

They came upon houses that, upon closer inspection, had been raided and looted long ago-anything of real worth cleared from the premises. The glass panes in windows were covered in a thick layer of dirt, some of them broken. The paint on the wood siding was stripping away, doors left ajar, as if everyone had disbanded immediately and without more than a moment's notice. He crouched in the wreckage, shuffling through debris until he realized he held a painted portrait of a family-a mother with a baby on her hip, two girls in front of her, and a man in a chair. The brush strokes showed a great talent, but it seemed that whoever had painted it clearly hadn't gotten the chance to show their skills to the world. This place-all of it-was a physical representation of loneliness and emptiness. It unnerved him and made him wish for his mother and brother, but they were gone now. Taken.

"Luke," Addie appeared in the doorway. "You should come see this."

The group headed down the path once again near another cloistering thicket of trees. His foot caught in something and he nearly tripped.

It was the open mouth of a skull. The toe of his shoe had gotten caught in the open mouth of a human skull.

He backed up suddenly, the arch of his foot rolling on another object as he hit the ground. And then he noticed what he was walking on.

The lane was cobbled with an inconsistent mess of bones. Teeth, skulls, rib cages that had long been shattered.

Addie helped him up.

"We're not staying," he announced. "Place gives me the creeps."

Up high in the trees, a figure with black wings like a raven's watched on, unheard and unseen.

The wheat field from the kitchen window was placid and the house was still. She reveled in the quiet and calmness, feeling alright for a change-or some semblance of the word. It was blissful. Her mother wasn't harping on her for standing in the kitchen, she felt rested, and all in her home seemed right as it should.

She was drawn outside by the wheat field that seemed to beckon like fingers, calling her out to hear whatever secrets they desired to whisper into her ear. Eliza found she wished to hear whatever it was they had to say and wandered out. Hearing the cries of a small child she wandered out until she found him-a boy of six with dark hair and big, brown doe's eyes brimming with tears. Something seemed strange about those eyes, but she dismissed it. He held his arms up for her to pick him up and she obliged him without hesitation, cooing to him in a soothing murmur of a voice. She cuddled him into her arms, his legs wrapped around her waist and face buried into her hair. He whispered in her ear, things she couldn't comprehend, but she rubbed his back and soothed him still all the way back to the house.

Placing him on the kitchen counter, she checked him over and found a scraped knee, but little else. She applied a salve and bandage with a kiss and offered him a cookie for his trouble before she turned her back, humming as she poured milk for him and tea for herself. She turned with both drinks to see that a boy no longer sat in the chair.

The likeness of herself did.

The glass of milk dropped to the floor and shattered, along with the teacup. The doppleganger smiled coyly-wickedly-and it made her stomach turn. For a moment time was frozen and then it stood, continually growing until its back pressed the ceiling. It stood hunched over her, face changed to a skeletal structure covered with a waxen purple-gray skin. Its teeth dripped, the smile hungrier than before. Finally she screamed as it reached for her with a swipe. Something from behind grabbed her shoulder and shook it roughly.

She woke to the light of day, screaming and covered in sweat, Henry standing over her shaking her. "Mother...Mother! Shhh...you mustn't. You have to be-"

The bedroom door flung wide open as if it were acting of its own accord. Her mother stood in the doorway, staring down at her with those eyes that were so strange. It was her mother's face she saw, but it was not her mother and she was certain. Whomever had replaced her, the doppleganger was of no likeness in personality. She was malicious. Forceful. All of the things Georgia had been, but it wasn't the same.

Henry had vanished.

"JANE?!" Eliza shrieked her sister's name over and over again, her voice growing hoarse as Georgia approached her.

Georgia pressed a hand over her mouth. "If you don't stop screaming, I will smother the goddamn life out of you."

"Eliza? Mother-what's going on, are you alright?" Jane entered the room and went immediately to the bedside where she removed her sister's restraints.

Taking quiet stock of her surroundings, Eliza shuddered. "Nightmare...Yes. I think so."

"Honestly..." Georgia scoffed.

"It's alright, mother. I have her now. Let's go for a walk in the garden. You can help me plant some things." Jane waited for Georgia to wave a careless hand before she grabbed some clothing from the drawers. The two of them spoke in hushed whispers.

"Don't leave me here with her, you can't..." Eliza begged.

"I won't. I promise I won't. We're getting out of here, Sam and I just need to finish the plans. We think one of his brothers was taken too."

Things grew even more solemn as Eliza finished dressing and put her shoes on. "We can't waste anymore time. We have to leave if we're going."

"It's not safe," Jane sighed.

"It won't ever be," Eliza said. "But I would rather die trying than wait any longer."

The night before her dreams were filled with riding in cars, her head out the window, hair blowing wild in the breeze with the sun on her face. At first she'd been afraid of it, but she found it exhilarating. So much so that she'd pushed herself halfway up and out and Serena had to reach to keep her inside. "Do you have a death wish?" she asked, rolling the window most of the way up and locking it. James, to his credit, laughed.

She also dreamed of strange screens and things that played loud music. Everything had buttons, all of them tempting. Her mother would've been scared by it, but she delighted in it. In exploring this weird and unknowable place.

She woke in the guest room, acutely aware of the forget-me-not blue comforter's softness and the butter yellow walls. She didn't care much for the pajamas-a pair of plaid trousers Serena loaned her that were too long and wide in the leg and had to be cinched tight to stay up, and a loose, short sleeved shirt like the ones men she knew wore under button-up shirts on Sundays. Sara pulled the pants up a bit higher, missing her old nightgowns as she shuffled out to the hall. To the right, she heard voices, and wandered in that direction.

The walls were lined with pictures of Serena and James; some of Serena in a flowing white gown, kissing James who looked dressed to the nines. Sara had never seen anything like it. Other pictures were of relatives and times gone by, but it was clear they never had children. She turned away from the smiling, laughing, kissing faces and made her way into the kitchen.

Any conversation that had been ongoing before she entered changed to silence and alienating stares until Serena broke out into a broad smile. "Good morning! How did you sleep?"

She gave a slight shrug. "Fine," she answered in an awkward effort to be polite. Sara had been so tired the night before that she'd all but collapsed into bed right after dinner, for which she'd been starving. But beyond a murmur of thanks, she'd barely spoken a word. She sank into a kitchen chair, hesitantly reaching for milk and scrambled eggs. She ate with more hesitation, aware that they were watching all the while as she nibbled self-consciously.

"I was thinking we might go out today. Shop a bit, find you new clothes. What do you say?" Serena asked. The question was met with a deer-in-headlights look of confusion. "What? Why're you lookin' at me like you never been out shopping before?"

Sara averted her eyes, embarrassed. "We don't...we don't do that."

"How do you get your clothes?"

"My mother made some of them, some she wore as a girl that my grandmother made."

"By hand?"

"Yes, of course," Sara nodded, feeling both proud and confused. "Didn't your mother make yours?"

"Oh my god."

"Wh-what? What is shopping?" Sara asked, shrinking into herself.

Serena looked to James in incredulity and then back at Sara. "Go get yourself dressed, honey. We got a long day ahead of us."

Jane had taken Eliza on a walk before lunch while he worked to till Eliza's garden. The greenhouse hadn't been completely fixed since the riots and would need help eventually too, but he figured it was best to accomplish all of one task instead of getting both only half done. It was a breezy spring day and he felt convinced the harvest this year would thrive, if anyone bothered to tend it.

Wiping his brow, Sam staked his shovel down in a corner of the garden plot and went into the greenhouse to find a trowel or spade that might help him weed some of the old crop out. By the state of things, it had been a wonder that the Abbneys had even survived the winter. The plants in the drafty, broken greenhouse were dead, their half-grown remnants withered and shriveled in their pots. A few pots were broken on the floor, but something else under the table caught his eye.

He pulled it from under the table into the light, but promptly dropped it and backed away when he realized what it was.

It had six arms, a long and thin torso, two lanky legs like poles, and a head with no describable shape. The clawed fingers of its hands were limp now, but at least two of them had attempted to pull a pair of garden shears from its eye where they were firmly lodged. Its skin was dark with rot and brittle like a husk as if whatever skeleton had been inside had simply crawled out. Disgusted, he covered it with a drop cloth and emerged into the open air, lighting a fire in the pit behind the house.

He dragged the entire thing out into the open and tossed it on the fire. The cloth caught quickly, eaten by the flame in mere seconds, but as the flesh of the creature began to burn away, the smell turned pungent and the flames turned a purplish blue. He backed away, coughing, turning toward the garden.

"Find some wood that wasn't soaked?" Georgia answered, standing at the back door. She seemed to watch him with eyes that knew something he didn't.

"Most of it's pretty dry now," he forced an easy smile.

"What're you burning? It smells ghastly." She covered her mouth and nose with a kitchen towel.

"Pulled some stuff from the greenhouse. Underbrush and the like. Might've been fertilizer in some of it," he lied.

She narrowed her eyes to the burning silhouette in the flames as if she were going to call him out on his bluff but instead she nodded. "Thank you." She went inside and closed the door.

He went back to clearing up the greenhouse, too afraid to turn his back for fear she might try something. Jane had told him Eliza didn't trust her anymore. She didn't either. Perhaps it was two suspicious women rubbing off on him, but he didn't believe either of them had the reason or motive to lie. Now he felt sure of it.

He made trips back and forth between the greenhouse and the fire pit, always sure of the pocket in his trousers where a hunting knife sat comfortably in wait. An hour later, the greenhouse was cleaned and he was raking through the overturned garden plot as Jane came back around the side of the house.

"Where's your sister," he asked, checking her eyes first as she'd told him to do and then giving her a kiss.

"Left her on the porch. She's not doing well. We need to leave, Sam. It has to be now or never."

"I agree."

"Everywhere we went, Sam, it was like they knew we weren't one of them. It's like they were watching us."

"I know. I think they got your mother too. Did you notice?"

"She's been strange to Eliza... I don't know how much longer she can last."

"Then let's do it. We'll go tonight."

"What if they catch us?"

"They'll kill us either way. Got nothing to lose."

Jane rested her forehead on Sam's shoulder. "Why did it have to happen to us?"

He wrapped his arms around her. "I don't know Jane. I really don't know." But he knew one thing. He was willing to die for her.

She had never, ever seen so many people in one place. Women were wearing pants like men, and some girls wore skirts that were much too short. Sara stood like a small, shrunken doll close to Serena while she looked through racks of sale items. Sara averted her eyes from a group of girls her age and played with the hem of her sweater.

"How about this?" Serena produced a sleeveless top for Sara's approval.

Her hands found her way to her lips where she anxiously chewed and picked at them. She shook her head.

"Why not? It's a great color, it would look good on you," Serena held it up to see but Sara stepped back.

"It doesn't have sleeves," she murmured, hugging herself.

"Okay, well how about you look around and we'll find you something you like, then."

Apprehensively, Sara turned and looked over a the nearest racks. After a moment, she produced a long, off-white dress that reminded her of her aunt. The sleeves hung at elbow length and although the neckline could've been higher, she found she liked it.

"Go try it on! I'm going to look around a bit more, I'll bring you some things." Serena herded her into a dressing room and went off in search of more options.

The dress fit beautifully. When she stepped out of the dressing room, she stood before Serena, who smiled.

"You look beautiful."

A blush crept into her cheeks. It was unlike anything she'd ever worn. Jane would have looked beautiful in it.

Eventually they left the store with the dress and a sweater, and a necklace Serena had talked her into. Modest clothing for a modest girl. She had no understanding of money, stuck close by in crowded areas, and all but refused to explore anything on her own. Somehow, Serena had gotten the child she always wanted, but Sara's discomfort made her feel bad, and they headed home after only a short while.

In the car, Sara watched as others passed on the sidewalks, watched children playing in parks, and men in suits talking on little black things, and while the streets were far from bustling, they were not the same as the place she had grown up in.

This world was a foreign place and she wasn't sure if she liked it or not.

The car pulled up where it had the first time, but there was no woman screaming at him to go away to mark his presence. Actually, it seemed strangely quiet. This was different from the quiet of the countryside he knew. The field, newly sown, was desolate. No one seemed to wander the lane as he had seen on his first visit months ago. There were no sounds of cattle, no sounds of chicken or the chattering of women in their gardens. It was as if a deafening curtain of sadness had fallen over the place, but he couldn't place why.

James shut the car door and looked out into the freshly planted field. Trying his best to adopt some bravery, he persevered down the path until he found the familiar house he had once visited. He was going to approach the front door from the porch, but spotted the woman on the porch in a rocking chair. Her face seemed more gaunt than he could remember, eyes more fatigued. Her skin took on a pallor that rivaled the face of the moon, and at once he took pity on her, understanding why Sara was so adamant about her rescue.

"Mrs. Abbney?" he asked, stopping short in front of the porch.

She stopped rocking and slowly looked his way as if she were dreaming. Upon realizing who he was she leaped to her feet and grabbed a pair of gardening clippers that had been carelessly left on the porch table. "You leave me alone! Your kind have done enough already!"

He raised both hands for her to see and took two steps back. "Please, I don't want to do you any harm. Your daughter asked me to come for you and I didn't want to but I'm here now and I'm not leaving without you."

"You've seen my Sara?" her voice was hoarse as she stepped out into the spring day's light. The gardening shears fell from her hand and volleyed down the step. Something in her eyes changed, that fearful resolve melting into hope. It was then that he noticed the yellowing brown collar of bruises around her throat. It made the skin on the back of his neck stand on end. She seemed little more than a skeleton-as if he touched her, she might easily break.

"I have. She's at home with my wife. I'm here to take you to her."

"How do I know you're not lying to me?"

James stared at her for a moment, trying to think of what he could say to prove it to her that she could trust him. "Would I be back here risking my life if she hadn't demanded I come to get you?"

The faint trace of a smile edged its way onto her face. Of course. Of course Sara would've insisted. It would mean, too, that everything Henry had said on the day of the Choosing was true.

She approached him at arm's length. "Take me to her."

"Eliza?" Sam and Jane rounded the side of the house. "You..." Jane whispered. "Please, you have to help us." She budged in front of Eliza, the three of them suddenly urgent and close.

"He says he has Sara," Eliza interjected. Sam put a hand on her shoulder, a relieved smile spreading across his face.

"It's not safe here. You have to get us out," Jane begged. "Help us, please."

James tried to absorb them all, but he realized now was not a time to think. If anyone else caught sight of him, there would most certainly be trouble. "Okay, okay but it has to be right now. Come on, we have to go-"

"Don't. You. Dare."

The four of them froze, turning back to the porch where Georgia stood wielding a rifle.

"Eliza, you get back in this house immediately," she demanded. "I'll deal with him."

"No." Eliza stood her ground. "No I won't."

Georgia fired one shot that miraculously missed them all, but they didn't stop to be grateful. The four of them sprinted up the road to the car as Georgia loaded another bullet into the chamber and a second shot rang out. They piled quickly into the car and James did not waste time getting them out as fast as he could, driving to the end of the road with the gas pedal nearly pushed to the floor.

The car sped the full two miles away until the houses they had known became tiny pinpricks on the horizon before James dared to slow down. Jane cast a glance over her shoulder, fearing that the ordeal had been too easy, but for now she leaned into Sam, adrenaline leaving her in subtle waves until she felt only tired. The dirt road turned to a gradual gravel one that crunched and popped beneath them.

Eliza braced herself against the car's interior, uncomfortable and rigid. She jerked in surprise as he turned the air conditioner on, but her initial shock turned to curiosity as the air around them grew cooler. "How far away are we?" she asked, looking to James.

"Not far at all. You'll be together soon."

Eliza nodded, wondering if her choices had been the right ones. Even if he didn't have Sara, she realized she had at least one thing.

She was free.

Sara paced the length of the porch. "They should've been back by now. Why aren't they here yet?" She was biting her lips and fingers down to scabs.

Serena took her by the shoulders, encouraging her to sit on the step beside her, her arms wrapped maternally around the girl. "Don't worry. They'll be here soon, I promise." Her fingers worked through fine strands of hair, braiding and unbraiding until Sara, feeling soothed, rested her head in Serena's lap.

"What if he doesn't find her?" Sara asked. "What if she's dead?"

"She's not dead, calm down."

"What if they killed him? Oh god, it's all my fault..."

Serena hesitated. "No. They'll be here. The gotta be. They will be."

"Will you tell me a story?"

"What?"

"Tell me a story. About you and James. Or something else. I'm too nervous."

Serena humored her with the story of how they met; college sweethearts. He'd bumped into her at a football game (a concept she had to expand on) and spilled a beer down the front of her shirt. He kept messing it up, trying to be smooth and subtle, Serena said. He wasn't very good at it. But he offered to trade shirts with her and let her humiliate him any way she wanted for the night. A few weeks later, they were dating, and two years after college they were married.

A black car turned down the road toward the house. "Is that them?" Sara asked, lifting her head from Serena's lap. The car slowed and turned into the driveway, with Sara on her feet instantly. "Momma? Momma!" Serena reached for her hand before she could run in front of the car. Finally James turned the ignition off and helped Eliza from the car.

Sara crashed into her like a tidal wave, burying her face in her mother's hair. She pushed away and studied Eliza's eyes for a telltale sign, and finding nothing, she threw her arms around her again. The language of hysterics seemed to be one only the two of them could understand.

"Are you alright?" when they finally calmed, Eliza smoothed the hair away from Sara's face to see her better. "What are you wearing, what happened to your clothes?"

"I'm alright. Are you alright?" Sara's eyes wandered to the purple collar at her mother's throat and then back up to the eyes she shared. "Where's father?" She didn't expect he would join them. He was too rooted in the traditions he was born into and maybe it was just as well that way.

Eliza's face turned unreadable. She looked down at Sara's hands in hers.

"Mother?"

"He's gone."

Sara hugged her mother tight again. "What happened?"

"Chosen." Eliza's voice was empty and dry. She would not mention the beastly visitor in the night wearing her husband's face.

Sara gave a grave nod, sniffling. She wasn't sure how she should feel about things like this. Had never been sure.

"We're glad you're safe." Jane finally spoke up.

Sara, grinning and relieved stepped around her mother to hug them both too. "And you're alright?"

"We are," Sam answered for them both.

"And...and grandmother?"

No one seemed willing to speak. Finally Sam shook his head. Sara brought the three of them together in a hug. "It's fine. It's alright, we're all okay and that's what matters, isn't it? We're all okay. We're safe now."

"Not for good," Jane whispered.

"What do you mean?" Serena asked. James gave her shoulders a squeeze.

"The invasion isn't the start of something," Jane said with such calm simplicity. "It's the end of something."