Mother Ship Page 4

  She stepped aside, and he entered, taking the doorknob from her, twisting it, and closing it with no more than a whisper. He engaged the deadbolt. “Peter’s here?”

  “In the kitchen.”

  “Tell him to put on black clothing. You do the same. Wear your softest-soled shoes. You can’t take anything with you, other than a pistol.”

  Cynthia gave a tight smile. “We know the drill. Ethan must have briefed us on this ten times.”

  “And I’m making sure you don’t forget anything.”

  He held her gaze for a long moment, and her smile melted away. She nodded. “Right. But before we leave, we need to talk to you.”

  “There’s no time. We don’t know whether people’s circadian rhythms will hold up. Could be that night will drive them even crazier.”

  “We need to make time.”

  Ted looked into Cynthia’s eyes and saw steel there. He sighed. “Okay. Let’s talk.”

  “Come into the kitchen.”

  He followed her. Peter gave him a slight wave from the table, wearing the same sort of smile Cynthia had been wearing. It also melted away under Ted’s gaze.

  “Coffee?” Cynthia asked. “We have instant.”

  “Got decaf?” Adrenaline would keep him awake as they crept out of the city. Caffeine would only compromise him, make him jumpy.

  “We do.”

  “I suggest you stick with decaf too.”

  “I’m feeling a bit drowsy,” Peter said.

  Ted stared at him for a beat, feeling sort of amazed. “You won’t be for long. Let me revise: I insist you have decaf.”

  Standing against the counter as she waited for the kettle to boil, Cynthia nodded. “Decaf it is.” She gave her husband a look.

  Peter didn’t look overly pleased about it, but he said nothing.

  “I’m told you know the asset’s location,” Ted said.

  Cynthia’s mouth quirked. “We do.”

  “But won’t say.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Do you intend to share his location?”

  “That depends.”

  Ted raised his eyebrows. “On?”

  “Whether he’ll be given a choice. A real one.”

  “Even when it’s the entire species at stake?”

  “Even then. Reluctant heroes are one thing. Unwilling heroes are useless. If Max is forced to fight, at some point he’ll falter.”

  Ted studied her face, and now it was his turn to suppress a smile. Like theirs, it wasn’t a whole-hearted smile, but sad and tense. “That’s not all. Is it?”

  Cynthia stayed silent, and Peter stared at the table.

  A sigh escaped Ted’s lips. “I know you’ve come to care for the boy. I have, too, and I was only his principal. To have been his mother and father…I can only imagine.”

  “Honestly, Ted, you have no idea.”

  “I’m sure I don’t.”

  “Max is everything Janet will never be.”

  He raised his eyebrows, partly at Cynthia’s use of the asset’s name. But what did it matter now? They kept using “asset” only out of habit. “What does Janet have to do with it?”

  Cynthia laughed bitterly. “Don’t bullshit me. She’s the strongest force in GDA. From what I’m hearing, she’s essentially running the show, and there’s no guarantee General Andrews will get here to take over. If our projections are worth anything, then the rest of the command structure has disintegrated. So don’t try to tell me Janet has nothing to do with what will happen to Max.”

  “You’re right. Janet’s running things. And she claims that during their last conversation, Andrews authorized her to obtain the asset’s location using any means necessary. And to force his compliance by any means necessary. Conveniently for her, we’ve lost contact with Andrews since then, so no one can confirm those orders. Ethan was there for the conversation, and he’s backing her up, though he kept assuring me that you and the asset—and Max—will be treated with respect.”

  “Unless we don’t cooperate.”

  Ted nodded.

  Cynthia grimaced. “Of course Ethan is supporting her. She owns him.” The kettle clicked, and she turned to mix the hot water with the instant coffee.

  He shrugged. “She is his superior. And we do need a strong leader right now.”

  “I’ve never known you to let fear rule you.” She set steaming mugs in front of him and Peter, but she remained standing, with one arm resting across her stomach.

  Ted laughed. Then you don’t know me very well, do you? “She will get the asset’s location out of you. You know that, right?”

  Cynthia raised her eyebrows. “How far do you think she’ll go?”

  “I’m not sure. But she’s been different since all this started. She’s gotten harder, if that’s possible. It’s…a little spooky.”

  Cynthia and Peter exchanged glances.

  “Do you think it’s possible they’ve compromised her?” Peter looked up at the ceiling as he said it, then back at Ted.

  “Anything’s possible. But I have to assume our precautions will prevent that. If not, then they have complete power over us anyway.”

  Cynthia’s gaze was on the table as she spoke slowly. “ If Janet’s been acting strangely, then that’s all the more reason to keep Max from her. Yes, I know she’ll find out where he is. Eventually. And who knows? Maybe he’ll want to go to her, despite it all. But he needs to be given the choice.” Her jaw tightened. “It’s time Max got the chance to make a choice, in all this. I have to believe I’m doing the right thing.”

  “The right thing,” Ted repeated. “You plan to try holding out.”

  “We do,” Cynthia said firmly, and Peter nodded after a second. “But eventually, Max will head here anyway. If he doesn’t hear from us for long enough, he’ll come here.”

  I think I see where this is going. “Janet knows that.” He hesitated. “She’s assigned me to return and watch the house, after I’ve brought you to her. I’m supposed to let her know the moment I spot him. If I do. But something tells me you know all of this already.”

  “I guessed it.”

  Peter was looking at Cynthia, brow furrowed. “Uh, I didn’t. Why doesn’t Janet just order in a platoon to lock this place down?”

  Ted lowered his mug to the table. “Because she knows entering the city with a unit of any size would be a waste of men and ammunition at best. Suicide at worst. Right now, a single operative can go where a group can’t.”

  “Especially an operative like you,” Cynthia said.

  Ted didn’t answer.

  She swallowed visibly. “If he comes here…will you give him a choice?”

  He stared into his coffee’s blackness. “You’re asking me to go against Janet Thompson.”

  “I know what I’m asking.”

  “I’m not sure you do.”

  “So you’re afraid after all?”

  Indeed I am. But he hid it with another smile. “I just want to firmly establish that you owe me one. Big time.”

  Cynthia smiled back, and this time it wasn’t fake.

  The Edwards went upstairs to get changed, and when they came down Ted was at the living room window, peering through a crack in the curtains.

  “I think it’s clear. Let’s go. Stay close behind me, and don’t make a sound. Tap me and point if you spot a threat. Again: do not speak until I tell you otherwise.”

  He let Cynthia lock the door behind them before leading her and Peter down the elm-lined street, this time with his weapon drawn, held low.

  7

  8 days to extinction

  On the second day, Max woke up to someone calling his name.

  Blinking, he sat up. He was on the living room couch with the shades down and a thin blanket drawn over him. There wasn’t anyone else in the room.

  He listened closely, but the voice didn’t speak again. His phone drew his narrowed eyes where it lay innocently atop the closed chest, next to a handgun Jimmy had dug out from under his dad�
�s bed.

  Must have been a dream.

  All the same, he scooped up the phone and clicked it on. Still no signal or cell network.

  Where were his parents? Surely they should be here by now. He had no idea if they’d actually made it out of the city, no way to contact them.

  Tossing the blanket onto the back of the couch, he hauled himself to his feet and went into the kitchen to investigate the fridge’s contents. The light came on when he opened the door.

  Power, yes. Cell signal, no.

  He’d been here enough to know his way around his kitchen, and to feel comfortable helping himself. Probably he would have felt like that anyway, given he was now living in what he could only assume was the apocalypse. At the end of the world, you took certain liberties.

  Pots and pans were in the corner cupboard, and he grabbed a pot to put water on the boil. He took four pieces of bread from a bag in the freezer, and four eggs from a carton in the fridge. Jimmy would complain if he didn’t put any on for him, and he wouldn’t be picky if it grew cold before he got up.

  Max caught a whiff of something that suggested it probably wouldn’t be an issue either way. He cursed under his breath I told him not to smoke. The baggie in the chest was still there—Max would have seen him take it out. How many places does he have weed stashed?

  A few minutes later, Jimmy’s door opened, and he trudged down the hall to the bathroom. He grunted when he noticed Max, then closed the door behind him.

  The toilet flushed, and Max listened for the sound of running water afterward. He didn’t hear it. He frowned.

  “Something’s burning,” Jimmy said as he entered the kitchen.

  Max started, then popped the bread out of the toaster. “Damn it.”

  “I don’t mind it black. Nothing a heap of butter won’t fix.”

  “I heard burnt toast gives you cancer.”

  “I heard alien invasions give you cancer. Give it here.”

  They ate in silence, and Max tried to discreetly study Jimmy’s behavior.

  He failed.

  “Will you cut out the staring? I’m fine.” Jimmy coughed into his hand. “Damn it. Toast went down the wrong way.”

  Max smiled. His friend seemed mellower than the night before. Maybe the weed was a good idea after all. It might make him less alert, but then, if Max had lost his own father yesterday, he’d probably be completely useless. It would have to fall to Max to look out for anyone trying to get in at them.

  Jimmy polished off his second piece of toast and got up to put on two more slices. “You know, when I was a kid, I used to lie in bed, praying for aliens to abduct me while I slept so I could get the hell away from this place.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.”

  “Yeah. I guess it wouldn’t. In junior high, it became an obsession. I can’t count how many times dad told me to shut up talking about government cover-ups, disclosure, crop circles. False flag theories, where the US government stages an alien invasion in order to take over the world. That theory resurfaces every few years whenever a new president gets elected.” Jimmy turned toward Oklahoma City, which was blocked from view by the house’s southern wall. “I don’t think that one turned out to be right.”

  “No?”

  “Well, if this is a power grab, they sure botched it. From what we saw on TV, it doesn’t seem like there’s going to be much world left to take over.”

  Max sniffed. “Any coffee?” The Somertons weren’t coffee drinkers, so it was always hit or miss whether they’d have any.

  “Yeah. Over the stove, should be.”

  Max looked into the situation and found a glass Maxwell House bottle filled to around a sixth with instant coffee. “Hmm.” He put some more water on the boil.

  “You do anything weird like that, when you were a kid? I mean, I know you’re weird, but did you ever believe in conspiracy theories or anything?”

  “Nah. I guess I just accepted not knowing things, with my parents working at whatever it is they do.” He stared at the water, willing it to boil faster. He looked at Jimmy. “There was one thing.”

  His friend raised his eyebrows.

  “Hard to explain, but…well, when I was a kid, I used to get this feeling that nothing was real. I kept expecting everyone to fess up at some point that my whole life was some sort of elaborate production, which they’d all put on just to see how I’d react. I still kind of feel that way, sometimes, but not as much as when I was younger. Weird, right?”

  “Yep. Confirmed weird.”

  They mostly spent the day sitting around the house, saying nothing. Time slowed, until life seemed like slow motion, and a couple times Max convinced himself that the clock over the TV had run out of battery. Then it ticked over, and the next sixty-second wait began.

  Jimmy had a couple video game consoles hooked up, and they still had electricity to play them. But neither of them wanted to.

  Probably for the best. The flickering light might draw attention through cracks in the blinds.

  “Why’d you decide to join the Air Force?” Jimmy asked, breaking an hour-long silence as the afternoon plodded along. “I don’t think I ever asked you that. Everyone in school expected you to become a rocket scientist or something. Why throw yourself in with a bunch of dumb stick jockeys?”

  Max felt himself stiffen against the armchair’s generous stuffing. “The Air Force doesn’t hire anyone dumb, Jimmy. The last person you want fighting for you is someone who can’t think for himself.”

  “But that’s what the military’s all about, isn’t it? Brainwashing you so you fall in line.”

  Max wasn’t enjoying this conversation, though he shouldn’t have been surprised. Jimmy had always been mistrustful of authority of any kind, so of course he’d have misguided notions about the country’s military. All the same, Max could feel heat flushing his cheeks. He took a breath. “It’s true they teach you to follow rules. How to order your life. But you need that. If you don’t have a solid foundation for your life, you can never hope to take off.”

  “God, that’s cheesy. Did you read that on a poster somewhere in the academy?” Jimmy put a British accent on the last word.

  I came up with it, actually. Max had thought about this a lot. Why had he joined up with the Air Force? He’d had so many choices as his high school graduation approached. Every day, it had seemed like the school’s guidance counselor had forwarded a new offer from some prestigious university. He could have done absolutely anything, and it had been suffocating.

  For him, the Air Force was a way to opt out of the indecision. To do something that would give him a firm grounding—a foundation that would serve him his entire life. At least, that’s what Mr. Chambers had told him, who’d served two tours as a SEAL in Iraq. Max had chosen the Air Force because space had always called to him, and in the Air Force you had a shot at becoming an astronaut.

  Like Jimmy, he’d always been obsessed with space—just not the creatures that might live there. His heroes included people like Elon Musk, not whatever alien conspiracy theorist had scammed their way to fame this year.

  Max hadn’t answered Jimmy’s last comment, and now his friend stood up and went to his room without a word.

  Are we in a fight? He almost laughed. Probably, Jimmy had only wanted an excuse to go get high. It was pretty funny, how he was going out of his way to hide his smoking from Max, like a kid who knows he’s doing something he’s not supposed to.

  Something’s different, between us, though. Their friendship had a different quality to it, an element that had nothing to do with the alien invasion.

  Their conversation had given Max a clue about what that might be. To Jimmy, he’d become a symbol of the authority he’d always hated. He would have preferred Max to become a disruptive entrepreneur, or maybe an author with an anti-establishment bent. Instead, Max had joined the machine—that’s how Jimmy would think of it, anyway.

  Or maybe it was just the fact that Max had actually done so
mething with his life, while Jimmy had languished on his family’s acreage in the year after graduation, smoking pot and handling the horses for his dad. There was nothing wrong with helping out with a family business, of course, and Jimmy might have even taken it over at some point. But Max knew it wasn’t what Jimmy wanted, and he probably resented that.

  Jimmy didn’t emerge from his bedroom for the rest of the night, and the next day, Max woke at dawn. He got up from the couch to go knock on Jimmy’s bedroom door.

  He knocked four times, each louder than the last, till he began to worry about drawing unwanted attention if he banged any louder.

  Finally, his fist poised to knock a fifth time, the door opened to reveal Jimmy, blinking at him in his underwear. “Yeah?” he croaked.

  “I have to go.”

  Jimmy squinted. “Go? Where?”

  “To find my parents. You should come with me.”

  “There’s no way I’m going anywhere near that ship, Max.”

  “I thought you wanted to get abducted.”

  “Very funny. You saw the same news I did. The cities are death traps.”

  “I can’t wait any longer. I need to make sure my folks are safe.”

  Jimmy nodded, and his face fell. He seemed more awake, now, and the idea of being alone didn’t seem to be sitting very well with him. For a second, Max was sure he’d change his mind about coming.

  But he didn’t. “Take whatever you want from the kitchen. And my dad’s handgun. I’ll keep the rifle.”

  8

  7 days to extinction

  The way into Oklahoma City lay clear, the roads mostly empty. Thick smoke pillared into the air from some areas of town, but there were none in the direction of his neighborhood. Not yet, anyway.

  I need to move fast. With everything as dry as it was, it would likely only take a change in the wind to threaten his home.

  If I can call it my home, now. He doubted that would be possible anymore.

  Max had expected to find the city streets jammed, but it appeared the population hadn’t had much time to react to what had happened.

  He’d never thought much about how alien invasions would play out—for sure, not as much as Jimmy had—but even so, this wasn’t what he would have predicted. The few movies he’d seen on the subject had trained him to believe that humanity would see the aliens coming, with plenty of time to plan and react. To fight back.