In the After

Before I get dressed, I motion Baby over and hand her a pair of scissors. I want you to cut my hair short, I tell her.

How short? Baby wants to know. We usually trim each other’s hair every few months.

Short short, I tell her.

Why? Her own blond hair is sort of thin; it never gets tangled.

Because it’s too hot. I just don’t want to be bothered with it. I haven’t combed it in a week and it is starting to turn into dreadlocks.

You’ll look funny, she warns.

Not if you do a good job. I kneel next to her and hope she can make it sort of straight.

She starts to snip away, tentatively at first, but then she gets into it. I feel the hair drop down my back and all around me. Already I feel lighter. Baby steps back to examine her work.

How does it look? I ask.

Not bad. She bites her lower lip. Not good either.

I slip back into the lake to rinse myself off. My fingers slip through my short hair. I can’t see it but it seems like Baby made it even on both sides, close to my scalp until just above my ear, then a bit longer on top.

I look like a rock star from Before, I try to convince myself. In truth, I already miss having long hair, but it just isn’t practical. Who is there to impress anyway?

I dress in my new clothes, strapping my gun back over my shirt. Baby gathers her things, carefully placing the gun we took off the boy at the house at the top of her bag. I want her to carry it, to use it if necessary. I showed her how. It makes me feel a little safer to know she has it, in case something happens to me.

I heft my bag to my shoulder. Let’s look for a place on the lakefront tonight. We can find a mansion.

O . . . Baby pauses mid word. Did you hear that?

Hear what? I ask, puzzled. I look around and then I see it. A ship, landing.

I turn back to Baby. Run. Now. I sign as the blinding light appears.

Before I have time to turn, I hear a swoosh, and Baby is knocked into me and we fall. Her body weight presses against my chest. I gulp for air. We are a tangle of arms and legs, held tightly inside a strong web of netting. Luckily Baby is mostly on top of me, so I don’t have to worry about crushing her small body.

We begin to move. I twist my head so I can see through the netting. We are being dragged toward the ship, just like the creature, that night with Amber. I can’t reach my gun, but I feel Baby’s hand within my grasp.

Desperately I sign to her. Baby, where is your bag?

Here. She shifts her weight slightly, maneuvering the bag into my hand. I undo the zipper and reach inside. I feel the cool metal of the gun against my fingers. I don’t know what happens inside the ship but I’m going to be ready.

We are almost to the ship doorway, the gaping hole in the side of the craft. We are lifted from the ground and sway within the net for a moment before being deposited roughly onto the floor. I can barely see anything in the dark, but I feel a presence come closer.

Suddenly the net falls away and my hands are free. I roll over Baby into a crouch. The creature looms over us, covered in a shadowy black material from head to toe. I raise my arm, gun in hand, and fire into the creature’s body.

It’s not the recoil of the gun that surprises me. I’m ready for the gun’s push against my arm, the memory of childhood shooting lessons still etched in my mind. What shocks me is the noise. I’ve forgotten how loud things were Before. In the enclosed space, the noise is amplified and my eardrums feel as if they will shatter.

The creature jerks back and clutches its chest where the bullet struck. I pull Baby to standing but cannot see a way out of the ship. It’s small and cramped with no windows, and the door has already closed tight. I can’t even tell where the opening is. We are trapped.

Baby grabs my hand. It’s not dead.

I look back to the creature. It didn’t fall over; it doesn’t even look very hurt. It seems to study us, debating what to do.

I shove Baby behind me and fire again. Now I’m prepared for the deafening boom. The bullet hits the creature’s shoulder, and I watch closely. There is no tear in the creature’s suit; the bullet just falls to the floor with a clink. I can’t believe it. They aren’t smart; They are mindless killers. How can They design a bulletproof suit? How did They even make it to our planet?

The creature lunges at us and I throw myself in front of Baby to take the brunt of the hit. I’m knocked off my feet into the wall of the ship. My shoulder crunches sickeningly and the pain brings spots of light in front of my eyes.

I attempt to stand, but the creature is already on top of me, wrestling the gun from my hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Baby ready to jump on its back.

I ram my fist upward, into the creature’s jaw. I know I can’t hurt it, but I need to fight back, even if it only distracts the creature for a few seconds to give Baby a chance. I punch again, a little lower this time, hoping to find a tender spot under its chin.

I hear the creature choke inside its suit. I’ve gotten its neck. I shove it, trying to get away, but it forces me back down, pressing on my shoulders. It reaches for its head and pulls at the black material. It’s going to eat me here and now, no matter what its original purpose was for capturing us. I made it angry and it isn’t going to wait.

As it removes the material from its face, I close my eyes. I can’t bear to see its green skin and pointy yellow teeth. I wait for the pain. I want to die quickly.

“What the hell did you do that for?” a woman yells.

I open my eyes and stare into two very pretty, dark brown eyes.

She is beautiful. She is human.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I lie on the floor, dumbfounded, not knowing how to react.

I still can’t believe that underneath the strange black material is a woman. A regular, human woman. Her features are Asian; her accent is American.

“You’re the first person to ever shoot me,” she tells me, “and I think you broke one of my ribs.” She pushes herself off my body roughly and stands. I sit up, looking for Baby. She hurries to my side and sits down on my lap. I hug her close.

“What are your names?” the woman asks. I shake my head, unable to speak. It’s too much. Why have they captured us?

“Do you understand English? Espanol? Francais?” She places her hands on her hips. “I’m pretty sure you’re not Japanese . . . Nihongo?” she asks. I’m shaking and I can’t stop.

We stare at each other. “Well, that’s all I’ve got,” she says eventually. “I think you can understand me just fine, but have it your way.”

She puts her hand to her ear and pushes a slim black earpiece. “We’ve got a couple of hostile post-aps here,” she says. “I’ve secured their weapon but they’re unresponsive to questioning. We’re going to have to skip the meet and greet and put them straight through to psyche-eval.” She listens for a minute, looking us over.

“Two female children, a Class Three and a Class Five.” She pushes against the wall of the ship and a drawer pops out. She places the gun inside and moves a few feet back. She presses the far wall this time and an opening appears. I can make out the head of another person through the doorway. The pilot. The woman disappears into the cockpit and the door slides shut behind her.