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Chapter Four
The Visitor
I had been living in the cave for two weeks when somebody on guard duty spotted a girl in the desert. Ian, Kyle, Jeb and a few others went out to investigate. I handed Ian my gun, "Take this," I told him, "Just in case. Take care of yourself."
"I will," he told me, "You've still got to play me that song."
"I keep telling you I'm not any good," I said.
"I keep telling you I don't care," he said.
The group walked out of the cave and into the hot, dry desert. I went back to what I was doing but found myself worrying that aliens would kidnap Ian. What is this, I thought to myself, are you starting to have feelings for Ian? Why would you go and do a dumb thing like that?
It felt like hours later but it was probably only an hour I heard someone shout, "They're back."
I looked up and saw the group walking into the cave. The girl, the one they had gone into the desert to find, stumbled forwards. Her eyes gave her away; they were the silver eye color of the alien occupied bodies. "Jared," she called out, moving towards him, "Jared!"
He lifted his strong arm and slapped her so hard that she fell to the floor. There was a load scream and I was surprised to realize that it had come from my mouth. I ran to the girl and helped her stand up. Jared looked like he was going to punch her and so did Kyle. I glared at both of them. "Don't you hit her," I yelled, "Don't you dare!"
"She's the enemy," Kyle said, "Jesus Anya. What's wrong with you?"
"So shoot her if you have to!" I screamed, "Just don't hit her, don't you lay a finger on her!"
I found myself crying then. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jeb leading the girl away. She would be safe with him I knew. I looked around and then, embarrassed, ran to the room with the glowworms.
Once I got there I sat on the floor and cried and cried. Every few minutes I would become hysterical and start to hyperventilate. One of these times I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Sshh," Ian whispered, "Just breathe."
When I was calmer and the hysterics had calmed to just an occasional outburst I started to speak, "I, I, I," I said trying to find the right words, "I'm," gasp, "Sorry," gasp, "I'm so sorry."
"What are you apologizing for?" Ian asked.
"I don't know," I said, "I have no idea. I'm just sorry."
"Well don't be," he said, "Is there a reason you're so upset?"
I shook my head no. He nodded and we sat in silence for the longest time. Finally I opened my month to speak, "Maybe there is," I stared straight ahead at the wall of lights, "Maybe it was a little shocking to be a bystander for once. An observer instead of the one getting hurt."
He was silent for a moment. I turned around and studied his reaction. He looked mad and sad at the same time.
"A old boyfriend?" he asked quietly, cautiously, and the question hung in the air between us for a moment.
I shock my head, trying to find my voice, "No," I said, "My dad."
He looked like he was going to say something, offer me pity and sympathy but he stopped. I could tell he was behind me, sitting silently, but he did not make his presence known.
We sat there like that for a few minutes before he spoke, "When Kyle and I were kids," he started, "We knew this boy. He lived in our neighborhood and he rode the bus with us. We were friendly but never really close," he looked over at me trying to see how I was reacting to the story, "Every once in a while he would have a mysterious injury. If a teacher or another kid asked him about it the answer was always the same 'I got hurt playing sports'. The thing was the kid didn't play sports. He sat in his room and read books. I could see through the window. I always thought that was weird. 'Why would he lie about something like that?' But I figured he was just really clumsy. One day he stopped coming to school. Kyle was old enough to understand what had happen. I asked him what had happened to the boy and he told me that he was dead. He refused to tell me what happened. I figured it out on my own later on."
"That's a sad story," I said quietly.
"Ever since I figured it out," he said, "I wondered about it. How could somebody do that? Kill their own child?"
"My dad came pretty damn close," I muttered. I stood up then and started to walk away.
"Anya," Ian said getting up too, "I didn't mean to upset you. What I was trying to say was," he paused, looking into my eyes, "I love you." He stopped for a second, "I love you a lot. And I can't imagine why anyone would hurt you. I wish I could kill the bastard who hurt you. Because I, I will fight to the death to protect you." That's when he kissed me.
