cameras. “The structure landed in Central Park early this morning,” he said into twenty microphones. “As of now, the fate of anyone residing in New York City and the surrounding suburbs is unknown. We are working to find the cause of this interruption in communication as soon as—” He was cut short. The breaking news logo flashed across the screen.
I took a swig of soda. It was strange that the network had interrupted the president. I didn’t understand what they were talking about, didn’t know what it all meant yet. I glanced at the screen and what I saw nearly made me choke on my soda. They had footage of the “structure” in the park. Something emerged, turned toward the camera, stared. Still coughing, I pressed PAUSE on the DVR remote and stood.
That was the first time I saw an alien.
CHAPTER THREE
After They came, I did not leave my house for three weeks. The broadcasts stopped after the first few days, but they were not helpful anyway. They kept repeating the same things. Aliens had landed, they were not friendly, half of the planet was dead.
They were horrifyingly fast, traveling across the globe at an alarming pace. They didn’t destroy buildings or attack our resources, like in so many crappy Hollywood movies. They wanted us. They hungered for us.
That first day, I was slow to understand what was happening.
My hands shook as I desperately tried to call my friends and family. My father didn’t carry a cell phone. He didn’t believe in them, said they gave people brain cancer. My mom had one of those fancy touch-screen phones that her job paid for, but she never answered, and her office line went straight to voice mail. Sabrina’s phone just rang and rang. So did Tim’s. I tried my cousin in Virginia and my mom’s parents in Miami. No one answered. I went through the phone book on my cell, furiously calling one number after another. Eventually I could no longer dial out. I kept getting a recorded message. “All circuits are busy. Please hang up and try your call again at a later time.” Soon I couldn’t even get service. I stared at the screen for a minute, then, frustrated, threw the phone against the wall.
I curled into a ball on the couch and tried not to cry, but I couldn’t hold back the tears for long. When my father didn’t come back after a few hours, I had to admit to myself that he was dead. He had camping skills, but I could not imagine him holding his own against an alien attack. My mother might be okay, her government offices were high security, surrounded by soldiers. But I had no idea how to reach her, and could soldiers really protect her from those repulsive creatures? I had to face the reality that my parents could both be gone.
I stayed on the sofa and cried until I had no tears left and not enough energy to sob. I eventually crawled to the fridge and grabbed my dad’s Ben and Jerry’s from the freezer. It was the one junk food he allowed himself. He said life wasn’t worth living without Cherry Garcia. I gorged myself on ice cream and ended up vomiting purple- pink onto the floor. I fell asleep there, exhausted and miserable.
When I woke several hours later, I couldn’t figure out why I was on the kitchen floor. I opened my eyes and saw the mess I had made, instantly remembering everything. I wanted to stay there, but the smell finally got to me. I sat up and rubbed my deadened arms. Sobbing hysterically wouldn’t help my dad or my friends. It wouldn’t help me. Something inside me shifted or maybe just broke. I had to take care of myself.
I stood carefully, my legs still shaky, and went to retrieve the cleaning supplies from under the sink. When I was done cleaning the mess, I numbly grabbed a book from the shelf and hid in my room, unable to face my own thoughts. I needed to escape, if just for a short while, into a story from long ago.
My first night alone, I still assumed things would settle down. I stayed glued to the TV, watching the news report the same thing over and over. People were dying, and I was sick with grief, but I knew that we would overcome the invaders or whatever they were. We were the strongest nation on earth.
The second day passed and the TV was out, but there were still people on the radio. I was comforted by their voices, even though they spoke of mass chaos. People tried to run away, but They were everywhere. People tried to hide, but They found them.
Then on the third day, the radio went silent. I stayed in my room and obsessively read one book after another, to keep my mind on anything other than what was happening. I’d always escaped into books, but now reading had become something more. It allowed me to be somewhere else, to feel something else, not just the numbness that overtook my body and made me wonder if I was still alive.
My father loved Shakespeare; he would read passages with me and discuss all the intricacies. I reread
On the fourth day, I made myself eat and then tidied the house, trying to do the normal things that people do. I put out all the pictures I had of my friends and parents, gluing a collage to my bedroom door. I ransacked every photo album, placing each picture with great care, keeping my mind occupied. It was so much easier than facing reality. Sometimes I found it hard to concentrate, what with the world ending and all. I wanted so badly to leave the house, to see if anyone else was around, but I was scared of Them.
I finally decided to go out on our rooftop deck, and watch Them chase people down the street. They were faster than I’d thought possible, a blur of green, the color of pea soup. Glowing yellow eyes sometimes caught the light and flashed gold. The creatures pounced, not bothering to kill their prey before feeding. They ripped skin and flesh from their victims, who screeched in agony. The cries always brought more of Them, eager for their next meal. Those first few days were full of screams. It was terrible, but the real terror came when there were no more shrieks, when the world went quiet. I thought I was the only one left on the planet. There was only me and Them.
The fourth night, I turned on all the lights in the house. My block was dark, except for our home, my home. No one else had electricity, but I still did. I silently thanked my father who wanted to live footprint-free by installing solar panels and insisting we always put more into the grid than what we took out. We were as close to self- sustaining as current technology allowed.
I didn’t know then that They were drawn to the lights, like moths to a flame. I didn’t know that they couldn’t see very well. They were attracted to anything bright, especially once they realized that where there was light in the darkness, there were humans, which for Them meant food.
The electric fence saved me, and that was my mother’s doing. Even though we lived in an excellent, safe neighborhood in Chicago, she needed to protect the work she brought home. She had the fence installed behind our beautiful iron gate, the one They ripped up and destroyed in just a few minutes. She needed to make our house a “secure area.” My mother and father were so different I wondered sometimes how they managed to stand each other at all. Still, they were so in love. Their public displays of affection were always embarrassing and I used to make gagging noises to try and get them to stop. Now I regret the way I acted toward them. I regret a lot of things that happened Before.
CHAPTER FOUR
After those first few days, I quickly learned to keep the noise to a minimum and the lights off when it was dark outside. They hid at night, but were still attracted by light and sound. Even small noises would bring Them to the fence, their green skin sparking as They tried to tear through the electrified chain links.
I spied on Them through my dad’s nature binoculars, carefully watching, mesmerized by their grotesqueness, their snarls and sharp teeth. They had two arms and two legs, but that is where their similarities to humans ended. They were hairless; all the same shade of yellow-green, like sunburned grass. Most were naked, though some wore torn shirts or pants they must have scavenged from the dead. One sported a dirty Cubs hat, at which I couldn’t help but laugh. My sense of humor was very different in the After.
