A/N: I'm worried I may have started biweekly updates early...I haven't worked on this story in almost two weeks...damn school work.
Right, thank you to the reviewers for your continued support. You guys are too awesome.
And a thank you to Greg for beta-ing this chapter.
Now Read.
VIII.
Cafeteria food was always stereotypically disgusting, but that day was particularly revolting, meatloaf surprise with creamed corn and collard greens. Ben wished his mother hadn't been distracted by his younger brother that morning; Matt hadn't wanted to get out of bed and dragged his feet getting ready, making it impossible for her to break away and prep lunches that day. Instead, she'd put together a hasty peanut butter and jelly on wheat for Matt, no time to so much as trim the crust, and pressed ten dollar bills in Ben and Hal's palms telling them they would have to suffer through school prepared gruel that day.
In the lunch room, Ben sat at a table near the back; his friends surrounded him on all sides. Hatchet and Lindsey were flipping through the recent edition of their new favorite comic book, The Hair-Raising Adventures of Razorback Boy. The art-style was decent; the story interesting, it was a strange mix of sci-fi, action, and horror, but Ben struggled to get into it, something about it just did not appeal.
Marty and Crumb discussed the lecture from Mr. Heller's English class that day, they were in the middle of reading Fahrenheit 451, and the two teens were contrasting the book to other dystopian novels, particularly A Handmaid's Tale and 1984. Crumb believed that a mix of Bradbury and Orwell's vision of the future were the most obvious and logical course of history, considering the progressive dumbing down of future generations being perpetrated by the government, most notably through media outlets. However, predictably, Marty didn't think Atwood should be dismissed given the deconstruction of the modern female into little more than a sex symbol and homemaker that seemed to persist through the ages despite intermittent periods of feminist movements.
Arnie posed to the two teens the very real possibility that the future would not be dystopian at all, and even went so far as to suggest apocalypse, and instantly the discussion turned to contagious outbreak, nuclear warfare, and, ultimately, zombies, any of which, Crumb pointed out, could conceivably be a catalyst for a dystopian society, enter V for Vendetta, and thus the great debate continued.
"What about aliens?" Ben wondered aloud, poking at his meatloaf surprise, only to receive blank looks from all the teenagers that surrounded him.
"The alien invasion theory is inherently flawed, Ben, you know that," Hatchet spoke up to argue, "Given the amount of scientific and economic resource that would need to be poured into a long-term space flight program and the search for other inhabited planets…other forms of life – despite the high probability of there being none – there is no fathomable reason why aliens would come with the intention of conquer. It's ridiculous."
"Then what would they come for?" Ben returned, "If an alien species had the capability of long-term space flight and the resources necessary to seek out other inhabited planets, then it just goes to reason that they would be far more technologically advanced than us. We would have nothing to offer them but conquer!"
"Uh…scientific discovery," Arnie shot back, "Think about it. Any alien spacecraft that came to our planet would be the reflection of a highly developed space-flight program – science, Ben – and its team would consist of scientists, not soldiers. It would be a research team, not an armada."
"Well…no…but your argument is based on the assumption that the entire alien race, that its society, is singularly-minded," Ben protested, "And not split into governmental factions similar to our own, or possibly not even consistent of a single government much like ourselves-"
"The amount of resources it would take for a long-term space flight program would require the unity of a planet" Crumb interjected.
"Which only further supports the hypothesis that there would be multiple factions within this hypothetical invasive alien species' government," Ben bit out, "The greater the number of individuals brought together, the greater the number of dissenting viewpoints. NASA was founded on principles of science but most of its research is utilized solely for military purposes and there is no reason to discredit the theory that this alien race would not be just as bureaucratically divided as our own species. One faction of the aliens may be interested purely in scientific discovery, but another may be just as interested in slavery, possibly total annihilation so as to commandeer our planet's resources. Of course, this is completely forgetting the further valid hypothesis that this race is not in and of itself based on a totalitarian regime and therefore culturally biased positively towards enslavement of other intellectual beings!"
"That is absolutely ridiculous," Hatchet sputtered.
"That doesn't even make sense," Arnie cried.
"You're a close-minded idiot," Crumb muttered.
"Give me one reason why," Ben challenged.
"Uh…because, as the boys have all aptly pointed out, there is no way an alien race is going to spend conceivably centuries on research and travel hundreds of thousands of light-years to another planet in a galaxy far, far away just to wipe out what is probably the only other intelligent life form in the entire universe," Lindsey spat out.
"Fine, then let's go back to your original argument, that their purpose for traveling here would be scientific discovery. To study us. How is that not a form of conquer?" Ben retorted.
"How is that a form of conquer?" Arnie said in turn.
"How is it not?" Ben cried, incredulous, rising to his feet as he spoke, his words becoming more frantic, more vehement with each and every one that spewed from his mouth, "How is it not a form of conquer when they put things inside of you, prodding and poking around? How is it not a form of conquer when they cut you open just to see what makes you tick? How is it not a form of conquer when they change how you think, how you feel, dump chemicals in your brain to make you forget everything and everyone you've ever loved or cared about? How is it not a form of conquer when they alter you so completely, so totally, that you can't even be considered human anymore!"
He slammed his fists across the table to emphasize his last words but his friends didn't react, staring up at him impassively. He flinched at a gentle touch to his arm and turned round, met the hazy eyes of that mysterious blonde girl as she took his hand in her own and smiled up at him, demure.
"Why don't you tell us, Ben?" she teased, "After all, aren't you the one that's already been conquered?"
…
Ben stumbled hard back into reality, a strong hand roughly shaking his shoulder. He blinked away the thoughts and images swirling through his mind's eye and refocused on his surroundings. He was squatted on the roof of a building several blocks from the alien structure, the 2nd Mass's new target. He had his rifle cradled in his arms.
Dai was perched on the highest point of the roof, the top of the cement cube that formed a 'hut' over the access door. He was using binoculars to get a better look at the target. Pope wandered aimlessly around the edges of the roof, spitting a large swath of saliva to the ground below. Hal was the one holding Ben's shoulder, trying to get his attention.
"What?" Ben demanded in a low hiss.
"Where'd you go just now?" Hal replied, loosening his grip but leaving his hand resting where it was, "I've been calling your name for the past minute."
"You ever think that maybe I was ignoring you," Ben muttered grumpily, brushing his brother away and glaring out at the distant structure. Skitters crawled everywhere along the roads leading to that ominous creation, and somewhere nearby a mech cried into the wind.
"Hey, Chinaman, we gonna be here much longer?" Pope called to Dai.
Dai, ever the picture of unending stoicism, didn't respond.
Pope whistled, high-pitched and shouted, "Hey, I'm talking to you, Tanto!"
Hal and Ben glanced back at the mouthy older man a moment, their expressions reproving, then Hal set his hard stare on Ben and the younger brother shifted uncomfortably, turning back to the open air and the street below them. A small wind ruffled their hair and sent a shiver trembling down their spines.
"Now isn't the time to be acting immature, Ben," Hal quietly reprimanded.
"Then stop acting immature," Ben retorted calmly.
"Ben…"
"Do you really want to get into it right now?" Ben growled, darting a pointed look to Pope and Dai, and hissing, "Because you're the one who told me to watch what I said, and to keep my head down. You want to know why I don't listen to you, Hal? Because you don't listen to yourself."
"I'm older," Hal seethed, "And I have more experience-"
"So that means you get to make all the rules, and then break them?" Ben challenged. He shook his head, grit his teeth, muttered, "Why did you even bother coming back for me?"
"What does that mean?" Hal gaped, eyes narrowed and brow cascading with severe wrinkles.
"Nothing," Ben grunted, rising to his feet when Dai slipped off his perch and started towards the brothers. Hal stood as well, and they turned to face their approaching senior.
"Feel like taking a run?" Dai asked Ben.
Hal perked a brow and demanded, "Run where?"
"We need a better look at the supports on that structure," Dai answered, slipping the camera from around his neck and holding it out for Ben to take, "There's a light guard on the eastern side of the block. I see a deli down there; looks to have a good view of what we need. Your brother can slip in-"
"By himself?" Hal interjected, folding his arms over his chest and anxiously readjusting his stance, clearly irritated by Dai's suggestion.
"It's the best way," Dai reasoned, "He can get down there unnoticed, move faster than any one of us."
"I don't think so," Hal replied, "I'll go with him, provide backup."
"Chill out, Hal," Ben snapped, "This is what I'm here for. What's my best route, Dai?"
"No, Ben," Hal snarled, "You do what I say, remember? And I'm saying there's no way in hell you're heading out into Skitter territory without any backup. Dai, he's my little brother, either you let me go with him or-"
"You're not in charge of me, Hal, I don't need you to take care of me, and you're just going to slow me down anyway," Ben cried.
"This is touching and all, but could you boys hurry up and decide which one of you brats is going out there, because as fun as this little shindig has been, I would like to wrap it up and get back to camp," Pope interrupted, stating mock-joyfully, "I'm making enchiladas for dinner tonight. How the fuck I'm supposed to make enchiladas without tortillas and guac, I don't know, but I'll never figure it out if you don't let junior off your teats for ten minutes, big bro."
"I'm sorry, Hal," Dai reasoned, "But this is the best way. He can move faster and quieter by himself. Anyone goes with him and it just increases his chances of getting caught."
Hal opened his mouth to say something more, but he couldn't seem to find a proper protest, so he slammed it shut, folded his arms over his chest, and glared off into the distance. Ben tried to keep the gloat out of his features as he looked expectantly to Dai and awaited the rest of his instructions.
Dai gave detailed directions to the deli and Ben left the three men, taking the roof access to the building stairwell and jogging easily to the ground level. Out on the street, he unsheathed the knife at his thigh and held it in front of him, at the ready – he'd left his rifle with the other, any gunfire in the area would have every Skitter on him in a hot flash. Swift, steady, he strode forward, maneuvering around debris from the crumbled remains of the ghost city around him. He had all senses on high alert, and despite the light chill in the early winter air, a thin film of sweat coated his worried brow.
Head north, take the second left, straight on to the green building, make a right, five buildings down, cut right, and keep moving until you see the neon 'deli' sign.
Ben almost wished he could feel the way a normal teenage boy should feel in that situation. His heart was meant to race, his hands tremble, his breath hitch high in his throat. Instead, his nerves were steel reinforced with titanium, and coated twice in Kevlar. He couldn't even remember what it was to be afraid in a situation like that, and he supposed in a way, that was the more frightening thing.
Ben peek cautiously behind the second left corner, taking a fraction of the time it would take any other fighter to assess that the road was clear and move on. He jogged several yards, ducked behind an overturned Volkswagen crushed on the rear half, checked his bearings, and jogged several tens more yards, darting behind part of the roof of a nearby building when he heard the shuffle of Skitter legs hurrying by.
Ben waited, listened, and flexed his fingers around the hilt of the knife blade. He knew the others were on the roof with rifles watching him, but shooting any Skitters that attacked Ben would alert the enemy to their location, and they all would perish. He hoped someone was smart enough to confiscate Hal's gun.
Briefly, at seeming random, Ben wondered about Matt, if the youngest Mason brother was eating lunch or out playing with other 2nd Mass children. He hoped Matt was playing; the other children gave him such a hard time most days because his older brother was a 'half-Skitter freak'.
The Skitters' steps faded down the road and Ben flinched, let a few seconds tick by before he pressed on. His heart gave a small patter in his chest as he found the green building – it was a disgusting pea-soup color – and he darted right, cutting through the alley way and counting the red-brick backsides of buildings as he passed them.
Jimmy flitted unbidden to mind, as if he ever really left, and Ben faltered a moment, leaning his shoulder against a wall opening, listening to the thunderous steps of mech feet. He frowned, waited for the behemoth to pass before pushing forward. There hadn't been a chance to say 'good-bye' to Jimmy before leaving that morning, though he'd spotted the other boy across camp.
Smoking.
Ben cringed, and turned right after the fifth building, sprinting up the street in search of a deli sign.
Ben supposed of the many evils Jimmy could indulge in, smoking was probably not the worst. Not to mention, cigarettes were so hard to come by in the post-apocalyptic world, Jimmy rarely partook, but when he did, it wreaked havoc on Ben's hyper-active senses.
Ben slammed to a halt, drawing his breath in slow and letting it out easy. He lifted the knife and spun round in time to thrust out the blade just as a Skitter pinned him to the ground. His strike found the soft palate of the alien creature at the back of its throat and it died almost instantly on top of Ben, its foul smelling innards spilling out all over him.
When Ben was able to knock the corpse off, he found he was sitting on the ground underneath the deli sign. He wrinkled his nose at the mess staining his clothes and slick on his body, pushing the dead Skitter away and rising hesitantly to his feet, ears and eyes seeking out any other Skitters in the area poised to strike.
No new attack came and Ben headed towards the deli, trying the door first and finding it locked. He cursed all the looters in the world for not hitting this one particular building, then wandered to the window and used the butt of his knife hilt to splinter the glass. He pushed the rest of the pane inward with his boot and crawled into the opening he'd made.
Aside from a black splatter of blood across the black and white tiled floor, and rotting foods behind the glass counter, the deli store looked relatively untouched by the war. Ben covered his mouth and choked back his gag reflex. His eyes stung from the fumes. Big, black flies flitted noisily through the air, and he swatted a few away from his face, stepping through the room towards the opposite side of the store where he'd entered, where Dai had promised he could get a better view of the alien structure.
Ben found the original source of the blood stain underneath a toppled shelf, a half-decomposed body, its entrails melting on the floor, its bulging flesh wriggling from maggots and other insects moving through its cavities, feasting on the remains. He swallowed back bile and stepped carefully around the mess.
A loud ringing screeched out and Ben nearly dropped his knife, slamming his hands over his ears and collapsing to his knees. His eyes screwed shut and mouth formed a silent scream of agony. He couldn't shut the noise out, try as he might, because it seemed the ringing wasn't coming from some unknown source in the area, it was coming from within him. He could feel more than see the blue light that lit along his spine, licking white hot up his back side.
Images flipped through Ben's mind. Vivid depictions of a very alien world that overlapped the earthen remnants left behind on the landscape: a tree without name crawled up from the ground pushing away a Volvo, a creature unrecognizable gnawed on a fire hydrant overgrown with thick, purple globule vines.
The ringing stopped and the deli twitched back into focus. Ben gasped for breath, trembling, a bead of sweat trickled down his cheek. He shook the weird tingling away, lifted himself stiffly and staggered towards the deli wall, collapsing forward against it and sliding down to the ground, crawling to the window and propping himself up to gaze out along the street.
"Shit," Ben whispered, wetting his chapped lips errantly, getting a taste of blood and something he didn't want to identify, and spit it vapidly from his mouth several inches away. He wiped his knife off on his already mussed trousers and sheathed it, then dried his palms on his trouser legs.
The alien structure was very much in clear view but it wasn't what Ben had expected it to be. It wrapped around a man-made building, bits of it flowing out and entwining with steel-support beams and wooden T-Frames, bursting through dry-wall, mortar, concrete.
Ben lifted the camera to snap a few shots, furrowing his brow as he watched the alien forces marching around the structure; some were even crawling over it.
Another ringing erupted, higher-pitched but more mild, and Ben clutched his head again, dropping the camera, it knocked hard into his chest, catching at the band wrapped round his neck with a skin chaffing jerk. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the alien creation swirl and shift, mutating as though in tune to the blood-curdling cry tormenting Ben, and when the noise died down, the structure stopped moving as well.
Ben scrambled backwards, rushing through the deli once more and hastily tumbling to the broken window he'd entered the deli through. It seemed he hadn't forgotten what it was to be afraid after all.
Rejoining the other three fighters didn't take long and Hal was on Ben as soon as he ascended to the top of the building and burst through the roof access.
"What happened? What the hell took so long? What are you…covered in?" Hal rattled off and Ben stumbled back from his older brother, pushing him vehemently away.
"I'm fine. I killed a Skitter," he grumbled explanation, "No big deal. It was dead before it even hit the ground. Here are the pictures," he handed the camera over to Dai and stalked away from the men, calling over his shoulder, "Can we get the hell out of here now?"
.
.
.
A/N: I went to see the Perks of Being a Wallflower yesterday, it was an alright movie. The character Patrick was awesome, and all of the actors in the movie did a great job. The story itself felt very rushed, but at the same time, I spent most of the movie strumming my fingers and desperately wishing it would end...I think I'm just jaded about movies, I work with some cynical bastards that all think they're the foremost authority on movie critiquing. If you ever wonder where I get it from...
Anyhow, real quick, some of you might be wondering if and how much of Ben and/or Jimmy's past(s) will be revealed in this story, and the answer is: yes, and a maybe quite a bit. I want to focus more on Ben's past in this story, because it has a lot to do with how his future role in humanity will unravel, and then I want to touch a bit on Dorchester with Jimmy because that will affect his character's outcome the most. I will not be doing flashbacks in this story though, not like in First Patrol. I'm sorry to disappoint...but I'm hoping how things manifest will be just as entertaining. I always say, read a story to its end. You can't adequately judge anything in pieces, you have to see it in its whole entirety to get the clear picture.
Right, moving on.
Reviewers: Greg, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to misrepresent you! I didn't much like the chapter myself though...JMDlvr1, that would be funny if they did though; just hand them over to the Skitters..."here, we don't want them...". Cookie97, Hal is a meanie, I know. And you got your review for chapter 7 in before I updated, yay! Yeah, those four...'Razorback Crew' (thank you for that, IcicleLilly :D) have a lot of kinks to work out. Yeah, it's always a good thing when Jimmy defends Ben. An interesting thought on the unharnessed kids' motives though...Facepalmer123, it just means I'm okay with being hated...I get hated a lot, I'm used to it. You'll just have to read to find out if Ben and Jimmy survive. IcicleLilly, well, I'm still always glad to hear that you think my portrayals are accurate...and I'm especially pleased that you like Rome and Doug, jerks are so hard to resist, I know. I hope you're not too disappointed that there won't be First Patrol style flashbacks, but I promise, I'll try to make things as entertaining. Haley, that's a long review from you! Interesting insight on Jimmy, you know, I haven't really thought about if he wants his relationship with Ben public. I know Ben hates having to hide it, but Jimmy is a tough read on it, and that may be more telling of his feelings on the subject then anything...though I will say this, I do know how Jimmy handles it later when he's given the choice...
Okay, you guys, I'll see you all Thursday!