“I think I hit one too,” Reilly chimed in.
“—but then you weren’t there anymore. The aliens did something with those weird cubes they had and all of you just vanished. Poof! Disappeared. The aliens and their mate you slotted, just gone. It looked like bubbles popping. Scared the crap out of me, to give you the God’s honest truth.”
“Only Thor was left,” Reilly filled in. “We were sure he was dead, but when we got close, I could see he was still breathing. Couple of minutes after you disappeared, he was up and about again. Bit wobbly on his legs, but he didn’t seem none the worse for wear. Tough little fu… bugger. He’s a tough little bugger.”
“Why didn’t they just kill us?” Emily pondered aloud. “I mean, why would they just stun us? Doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe they didn’t know what you and Thor were?” Reilly suggested. “Maybe they thought you were one of their creatures, the ones that came after the rain. Think about it: If they’ve gone to such great lengths to ensure this world was changed to be exactly the way they wanted it, maybe they didn’t want to chance damaging one of their precious creations? Maybe that’s why they only stunned you. Just a thought.”
Emily thought it was probably an accurate one too. The aliens had been very particular in explaining why the change had overcome the Earth. This whole concept of massacring an entire planet’s ecosystem to ensure the continued viability of that planet as a life-producing system was, well, about as alien a concept as she could get her brain around. It was as good an idea as any other.
“Or maybe they just didn’t see you as much of a threat?” said Burris.
“She managed to blow one of the bastards in half. I’d call that pretty ‘threatening’ in my book,” said Reilly, jumping to her defense.
They all laughed. It was the kind of nervous laughter that only comes from a shared experience that no one had expected to survive, shot through with a vein of uneasiness that would come back to visit them late at night for the rest of their lives, Emily suspected.
“So, then what?”
MacAlister picked the story back up: “We sortied around the area looking for you or any clues to where you might have gone, but there wasn’t any sign of you.”
“Sergeant MacAlister was all set to storm that alien ship to get you back,” said Reilly. “I swear, if we hadn’t—”
“Son,” MacAlister interrupted, “if you don’t want to become a paratrooper anytime soon, I’d suggest you shut it.”
This time Emily’s laughter was pure mirth, albeit injected with a hint of embarrassment at the revelation of the depth of MacAlister’s dedication toward her recovery. “I’m sure Mac would have done the same for any of us.”
Reilly grinned wildly from the seat across from hers. “Not bloody likely,” he mouthed silently then said, “Yes, Miss. I’m sure he would have.”
Mac and Reilly had combed the area looking for her, but even Thor could not pick up a scent. So they had made their way back to the helo and waited. The way back to the Tacoma casino had been even more treacherous in the few hours since they had descended. “That place is being chewed away like nobody’s business. Won’t be nothing left but dust soon,” Burris had said.
There had been no argument from the sailors when Mac had told them they were going to be spending the night on the roof of the crumbling casino until he knew for certain what had happened to Emily. The plan was to wait until morning and then head out and see if they could spot any sign of her.
“Have to admit I was not looking forward to staying on that roof knowing there were all those creepy-crawlies below us,” said Reilly. “We all breathed a sigh of relief when you showed up.”
They had tried using the radio to contact her every fifteen minutes initially, but dropped to every thirty minutes to conserve power. They had been about to switch the radio off when her call had come in.
“We’re just glad you’re safe, Emily” was the last thing MacAlister told her before the cabin settled into a welcome silence.
Emily found herself nodding off, despite MacAlister’s occasional attempt during the return flight to drag what had happened out of her or to ask again if she was all right; her fatigue was just too overwhelming and she soon fell into a restless, exhausted sleep.
…And she dreamed. Dreamed of a presence hidden deep within the shadowy folds of her consciousness that observed her, looking out through her eyes as someone might use a spyglass to observe the inhabitants of a distant island. But the harder she tried to reach it, the deeper the presence seemed to burrow into her mind, slipping from her view like water running through her fingers. And did she truly want to catch this elusive sense of other fleeing so elegantly from her? She was unsure, it felt as though catching it would be like a secret might finally be revealed to her, about her; a secret too painful to withstand the light of her knowing. But still she chased after it through the maze of her thoughts and memories, down into ever deeper, ever redder areas until…
Emily jerked awake, her eyes snapping open at the gentle shake of her elbow by Reilly, and his crackling voice in her ear that told her: “Wake up, Emily, we’re almost home.”
“Okay,” she managed to say, as the memory of the dream itself slipped from her mind.
The Black Hawk circled over Point Loma, and through the dirt-stained cabin window Emily could see people far below caught in the dying light of the day.
They were all the family she had now, she thought as she watched each of them stop what they were doing and stare up at the helicopter buzzing toward them, craning their necks as they searched the sky at the sound of their approaching craft.
“Where the hell is that landing strip?” MacAlister asked over the intercom. The light was fleeing the world so fast it was becoming hard to make out the actual buildings of their camp from their shadows. “I don’t want to have to set us down on Coronado, if I can help it.”
As if they had heard his complaint, Emily saw three bright-red lights burst into life one after the other on the ground. Flares. Whoever lit them had tossed them down to form a triangle that was obviously meant to define their landing point.
“Starboard, Mac,” Emily said into her microphone.
“Where?… Okay, got it.” He swung the helicopter around and dipped it down toward the improvised landing pad. They descended and Emily thought she heard all four of them let out a sigh of relief when the tires finally touched down.
“Terra firma,” Mac said as he cut the engines, then added with a grin, “The firmer it is the less bloody terror. Welcome home.”
Emily could see the beams of flashlights around the edge of the landing pad; they were moving toward them now, bouncing back and forth as their owners ran to greet the returning group, the Black Hawk’s rotor blades already slowing to a stop.
The door of the helo was opened from outside and Rhiannon’s face appeared, ghostly in the orange glow of her flashlight. Thor sidled over and licked the girl’s face, his tail beating against Emily’s leg.
“Hi,” Rhiannon said nonchalantly, as if they had just returned from a shopping trip rather than an exploratory mission to seek out new life and boldly go where no one had gone before, to quote Captain James T. Kirk. But Emily saw the girl’s eyes flit from person to person as she made sure everyone was accounted for. The kid had a caring heart. It was going to be difficult for her to keep it in the world Emily knew lay ahead of them.