Hello, readers!
Again, this was part of a single chapter that was split into two. It's a little on the shorter side than the chapter before it, but I still feel like it was necessary to split them. It would have been reaching like, 8k words long if I hadn't. I ain't about that life!
This chapter has been updated as of 11/1/2017.
~ Crayola
Chapter Twenty-Six
Calculate
"You're here to abduct me?" It was a weak attempt at a joke.
He wasn't amused. I wasn't, either, and it was my stupid joke.
As if sensing my unease, he turned his body toward me and waited. Did he really expect an answer right that second? How easy did he think it would be for me to just up and leave my home? I couldn't believe he honestly thought I'd just disappear into the night with him.
Without saying goodbye to my family, to my mom.
Without so much as a note—just up and go, leaving everyone to wonder where I'd gone.
In those few seconds, I wasn't even sure I wanted to go. It would have been easier if I'd vanished with the rest of the victims that night. They would have assumed me dead, and I'd been ready to go at the time, anyway. I'd been ready to avoid coming home and dealing with everything.
Avoid that awful press conference. Avoid that horrible memorial in the woods and the therapy sessions and the interrogations and Dad's contempt, Mom's worry, Kristie's hate—
All of it. I could have avoided all of it if the military hadn't rescued me—
Now, though, I was dealing with it. I was back home with my loved ones and I was expected to return to school as soon as my therapist cleared me. Everyone knew I was alive. Everyone. They would miss me if I went away. They would wonder and investigate.
They'd grieve again.
Everyone had just finished burying their loved ones.
Not to mention that I was basically crippled. Not totally incapable of moving, but I would never have the same range of motion that I used to. How would I be of any use to someone who made a living hunting and killing strange, exotic creatures?
And humans.
"Wolf . . . ." I trailed off and wrapped my arms around myself to stop the trembling from starting up. "I—I won't heal completely. My legs aren't going to be as strong as they used to be. I—I don't know that I'll be worthy anymore."
His scrutiny angled toward my legs and he chittered what I thought was a dismissal, but I couldn't be sure.
I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead to relieve some of the stress. "I can't understand you, you know. How is this going to work if I can't understand you? Will you even be able to teach me your language?"
He nodded and my throat went dry. So much for that excuse.
At this point, I was aware I was grasping at straws and coming up with any excuse I could. Leaving home was a scary thought. The idea had been terrifying out in the woods, and it even more so now. I was safe here. Maybe not happy, but safe. Who knew if I'd be happy out in the middle of the universe with an alien. I could maybe learn to be happy, but I could do that here, too.
Where I wasn't going to be some alien novelty.
Where we had Internet and fast food and showers and indoor plumbing. In a world on a planet that I knew well, with tons of luxuries that I was going to miss once I didn't have them.
However awful it made me feel to admit it to myself.
But, I was running out of excuses. Especially if he didn't think my legs were going to be an issue. The thought occurred to me that he could possibly fix them, but that seemed too good to be true. Though, they were an advanced species so I figured it wasn't that farfetched.
"You really . . . want me to come with you?" I asked.
Trying to work out his reasoning made my head spin. There couldn't be much of anything that I brought to the table. I was broken and much weaker than him. . . so what was it that made him desire my company?
Wolf leaned in and touched the tip of his claw to the mark under my collarbone. I brushed my own fingers against the scar, so close to the bite wound I'd sustained. I was covered in scars, now. The ugliest being the one on my shoulder blade—the acid burn. I would always have the surgical marks on my legs, as well. I wondered if he could see all of them even in heat vision.
Wonder what they look like.
"This scar . . . ," I muttered. "Does this. . .make me like, your property?"
His answer was in the negative.
After thinking about it for another moment, I asked, "Does it make me one of you?"
This time, he answered in the positive. Through the mask, I could hear him say that word again—the one he had given me as an identifier, a name. I just wish I knew what it meant.
Maybe one day.
My mouth opened and closed, but I couldn't find the words. Really, I had no more excuses to give that would justify not going with him. I wasn't sure what I was going to do on Earth, anyway, besides trudge through life in mediocrity. Maybe finish school with no friends and find a part-time job doing something I hated.
Joining him could be an adventure. At least it would be something. But it was also unknown and dangerous and terrifying.
What if I wound up having to hunt those things for the rest of my days? I didn't think I'd be able to handle having to repeat that experience over and over again. I reminded myself, though, that the trophy room had all kinds of skulls, not just—
Those awful black bugs.
There were still some on Earth.
Eyes wide, I snapped my head up to look at Wolf, mouth open. "Wolf, there's something—" I quickly clamped it shut and looked away, down at my lap. My fingers curled into a fist around my sheets and I thought about what I was going to say before I made a mistake.
If I told Wolf about them, he'd go find them.
There were so many things that could go wrong if he did.
The government or whatever agency had them would capture him, surely. Kill him, or experiment on him. Sure, he probably had Brutus with him and the two of them would be a force to reckon with, but I wasn't sure if they could fight off an entire government sect. Not for long.
No way could I put Wolf in that kind of danger, not after everything. Brutus, maybe, but that was just me being petty. He hadn't actually done anything to me besides assume I was an enemy. No, for the time being, I was in a better position to see what those drones were up to and what the government was doing to or with them.
I was in the better position to get rid of them.
Besides all that, if I clung to this opportunity, I would be able to postpone letting Wolf abduct me for a few days. In that time, I'd at least would be more healed, possibly even walking on my own. I'd be able to meet with the agents and have a better picture of the alien situation. If I could stall for longer than a few days, maybe I could even be better.
When I started physical therapy, I'd throw myself into it and try to retain as much strength and mobility that I could.
That was what I told myself, anyway. I held on to that thought like a lifeline, ignoring the fact that Wolf would be able to train and help me with all of that. With those plans, I could pretend I wasn't scared out of my mind about going along with Wolf. If I seized on to the belief that I had something to do before I could go with him, then I wasn't telling him no. I was telling him to wait. Just for now.
Then I could have a chance to tie up loose ends in my life. Not just up and disappear from my room in the middle of the night.
Taking a deep breath, I looked up at Wolf and squared my shoulders, my jaw set.
It still took me a minute to speak.
"I can't go with you right now. Not yet, anyway," I admitted at last, speaking slowly.
He leaned back and regarded me with curiosity.
I lifted my hand to keep him from jumping to conclusions. "There's something I have to do here first. Unfinished business. As—" I floundered for a reason that would he would buy. Something that would appeal to his nature. It clicked and I gained confidence in my speech. "—as a warrior. I need to do this before I can go with you."
Wolf seemed to consider that. We stared at each other and I tried to keep my expression as flat and confident as his mask's expression. Wolf squared his shoulders at last and dropped his chin, holding the position for a moment.
Relief washed through me and I clambered upright so I could try to be as tall as he was. "I promise. When you come back, I'll be even more worthy."
His shoulders shook with that strange chuckle of his and he gave my shoulder a hearty shake, which I tried to return. So he wasn't mad. At least, I didn't think he was mad. I thought I had a pretty good handle on how to tell his emotions apart, but with that mask . . . that mask always looked so angry.
"Will you stay and wait, or leave?" I asked after a moment.
It took him a moment to think about it—or consider how to answer in a way that I would understand. Finally, he tilted his head and spoke. Not in his language, not a recording, but in that same deep, gravelly voice he'd used to tell me I'd made a good kill.
"Time?"
What?
I furrowed my brow and shrugged my shoulders. He chittered in a way that I remembered was a question, and then repeated the word. "Time?"
Oh.
"I have my first week of physical therapy starting and there's . . . something I have to look into. So, at least give me one week. In seven days, I'll come out into my backyard," I gestured in the general direction, "and wait for you there with an update."
He nodded in understanding and I hastily added, "After sunset."
That was all I needed. Some alien lurking around in my backyard all day waiting for me to show up. Atlas was already on edge as it was. I didn't need my parents letting him out only to be killed when he inevitable tried to defend his family and territory.
His answer was another nod.
I sighed with relief. A week. I had a week to come to a more permanent decision. A week to figure out what my long-term plans were going to be and when I was going to be able to see these drones (if I was going to see them at all) that the government had. After that, I'd be able to figure out what I could do about them if I should tell Wolf of their existence . . . .
One step at a time.
Wolf gestured a farewell before turning toward my closed door.
"Wait," I said, lifting a hand. When he turned to look at me, I shifted so my legs were draped over the side of the bed. "I'll walk you out."
Though I reached for my crutches out of habit, I quickly changed my mind. I didn't want to make Wolf think I was weak and needed their help to walk—even if I did. That was mostly the doctor's orders. I'd been feeling confident in my strength, and I figured that a short walk downstairs and back up wouldn't make anything worse.
Maybe I wouldn't even have to go downstairs. I studied my window for a moment, glancing between it and Wolf as I tried to judge how big he was against the size of the opening. I'd have to remove the screen and put it back, too.
It was slightly bigger than the window in the bathroom, but unlike that one, it didn't have the roof underneath it.
Not that it mattered.
After all, he hadn't broken both his legs and a kneecap when he'd jumped out of the ship. A two-story drop would probably be nothing for him.
But, I decided in the end that he wasn't going to fit through it. Not comfortably, anyway. He might scuff the sill or the lining, and he'd have to go through it almost completely horizontally to clear the unmovable top pane.
So, I was going to have to lead him through the house. Since he'd indicated that Brutus was somewhere near the back door, I figured I'd let him out the back door.
Warily, I leaned forward and put my weight on my legs. They trembled under the pressure, but I stood up all the same. However, I only made it about as far as I had when I attempted to walk that morning—about two and a half steps. Afterward, I stumbled and flailed my hand out to catch myself on anything I could.
Wolf was there, though, offering his thick arm as support when I nearly crumpled to the floor. I gladly used his arm to pull myself back up and was somewhat relieved when he didn't take it away. Though I tried not to make him hold much of my weight, I still needed to lean into him.
So much for not needing the crutches. It probably didn't help that I'd been in bed for the past few hours.
Hopefully, it was only balance issues. I'd had four legs for the past couple of weeks, as it were.
Once out of my room, though, there wasn't any way we were both going down the staircase side by side. Wolf was simply too . . . wide. He dropped his arm and I switched to the wall, and then to the handrail. Each step was torture and every creak the stairs made elicited a wince. Without fail, I stopped to listen to see if anyone was coming to investigate. No one ever did.
Atlas was the only one in the house who seemed to realized I was coming down the stairs. I could hear him shuffling in his kennel, making quiet noises. When we reached the bottom of the stairs, that quickly changed into a flurry of snarls and other savage sounds.
"Atlas, shh!" I pleaded, glancing up the stairs every half a second.
Wolf pointed in Atlas' direction and I waved him off. "He's part of the family. He's in his cage so he can't get us. He'll wake everyone up, though, so let's hurry."
It was easier said than done: when I tried to make haste, it caused all kinds of discomfort in my legs. No matter what I said, Atlas continued to alert the whole house that there was an alien inside. As soon as we hit the landing, Wolf grabbed my arm and hoisted me up. Not enough to carry me, but enough that I could amble toward the back door and still lead the way.
I fumbled with the lock in the dark, feeling around with my arms outstretched. Upstairs, my dad shouted at the dog and their bedroom door opened.
"Shit, shit, shit," I hissed between my teeth.
Finally, the latch turned and I yanked the door open, leaning heavily on it and shoving open the screen door. "Remember, seven days!"
God, I sound like the ghost chick from that movie.
He nodded and vanished into thin air. I waited until his footsteps hit the grass, then closed the doors quietly before slumping to the floor, leaving them unlocked. That small trek alone had strained my underused leg muscles so much that standing on my own was arduous.
"Nichole, is that you?"
The light overhead flicked on and my eyes were assaulted with the glare. I squinted and lifted an arm—at least this way I would look properly confused.
"What the hell are you doing out here?" It was Dad. The words were barely out of his mouth before he was scooping me up into his arms. I blinked away the brightness in my eyes and looked around. I had to think fast, come up with an explanation.
None came.
"I—I'm not . . . where . . . ? How did I get—"
Dad turned the kitchen light off with his shoulder and heaved me back up the stairs. "Were you sleepwalking or something? How did you get down the stairs? Did you crawl?"
"I don't know, I'm not sure," I said, tripping over my words.
When in doubt, feign ignorance.
"Dad? What's going on?" Alan's sleepy voice came from somewhere in the dark.
Kicking my door open wider with his foot, Dad paused at the threshold and leaned back. "Nothing, just go back to sleep."
"Is Nichole okay?"
"I'm okay, bud. Just—did a little bit of sleep-crawling, I guess." I was glad Mom didn't also come out to see what was happening: she would have caused a damn scene. Maybe even insisted that I sleep in their room or something equally ridiculous. Alan accepted my story without more questions and he receded back into his bedroom.
It was a good thing my family already thought I was crazy. Dad merely sighed and set me back in bed, then set my crutches up closer to me. "Am I going to have to start locking you in your room?"
I was slightly mortified my Dad saw me without pants on, but I would have to take solace in the fact that he might not remember much of this in the morning. Really should have thought this whole thing through a little better before jumping into it.
After settling in with the blankets around me, I told him, "I don't think so . . . it was probably a fluke, maybe. Just make sure my door's closed. Maybe it wasn't."
"I hope so. At least that stupid dog let us know what was going on. Good night."
"Good night," I replied, seconds before he shut the door.
Sighing, I leaned back against my pillows and stared up at the ceiling fan spinning above me. Sleep was out of the question now: I had too much to think about. Too much to process.
How am I going to get my shit sorted out in one week?
