Chapter Twelve
Reina
We ran.
The four of us: Oron, Lele, Jareth, and myself. Running, for hours.
We came across an old farmland that was, surprisingly, still run by an elderly couple. Still producing food and living off the land like they used to. The farmhouse looked literally untouched by the Vithohn.
It was so inviting, it almost felt like a trap.
I’d knocked on the door with Lele, leaving the boys behind in case the owners were easily spooked by aliens. I begged to be let in: told them we were running.
They graciously accepted us into their homes, even when I said we were traveling with a Vithohn and a Yaclion.
Their home was drab and cool-toned; sad blue flowered wallpaper in their living room that looked like it had been up for decades. Part of the paper was peeling in the top right corner of the room, a giant strip just tempting others to pull it down and finish the job.
There was only electricity in the back end of the home: just the kitchen and two bedrooms.
We sat in the living room on a dusty ribbed couch, talking to the couple and drinking the water they’d provided us from their well.
“You can stay here as long as you like,” came the friendly reassurance of John, the elderly homeowner. He looked to be about eighty or so: a tall man with a spindly frame. He had a long face and kind blue eyes. He was the kind of man you knew used to be handsome in his day.
“We don’t mean to be an inconvenience,” I said, looking back and forth from the man and his wife.
“It’s no bother,” Laura said: the stout woman with salt and pepper hair and oval brown eyes.
“We’re just happy to have the company,” her husband agreed.
I could see Jareth’s eyes going a mile a minute, surveying the house for its usefulness, or perhaps wondering what all of the human knick-knacks were about.
“How long have you been living here?” I asked.
“Since before the war,” Laura said, and her husband nodded in agreement.
“I inherited this farmland from my father and his father before him and so forth,” John waved us off as though he and his wife had told the story—their choreographed verbal dance—hundreds of times.
“When the aliens came back, he said: ‘Damn it, Laura, I’m not leavin’! I’ve lived here, and I’ll die here!’” the woman explained in her best impression of her husband. “Of course, he was one of the first ones to go crawling under the table when they set foot on the land.”
“Oh, don’t tell them that, dear,” John said, almost absently as he batted her shoulder.
“No,” Laura said with a sweet laugh. “I’m just teasing. He didn’t hide. He grabbed his rifle.”
“But they didn’t come after you?” Lele asked, interjecting suddenly as the rest of us just listened.
“They did,” Laura nodded slowly, as if remembering.
“So…” I breathed. “What happened?”
The couple exchanged a significant look between the two of them but said nothing. I swallowed uncomfortably at the expression and looked at Oron, who was staring down at the floor, lost in thought.
“Well, we ran off for a while,” Laura finally offered. “We went into hiding with some others. Stayed underground for a while.”
“Underground, as in…?” I asked.
“Under, ground,” John enunciated with a laugh. “Someone dug a big hole down in the woods.”
“You’re kidding,” I said and tried to imagine it: a group of humans dug out underground—their own personal mud hotel.
I looked back over to Oron. He was unbearably silent. I grabbed his hand and tilted my head down to try and catch his eyes, but he wouldn’t look up.
“I’ve heard of this, yes,” Jareth added. “Humans who have gone through the raid and preserved themselves in a series of deep tunnels.”
“You’d be surprised what people are willing to do when it comes it comes to survival,” John said, pointing toward Jareth, who looked absolutely fascinated.
“I am not surprised,” Jareth said in a simple, straight-to-the-point tone. “Humans are surprisingly durable.”
“Oh my,” Laura laughed into her hands, looking mildly entertained by our little friend. “I’ve never heard it put like that. But, yes, I suppose we are.”
“We don’t let Jareth out very often, I’m afraid,” Lele said plainly, showing her palms to the kind couple. “I apologize.”
“No need,” Laura said, shaking her head.
“Well, humans are impatient, too,” John continued: his eyes far off, like he was still down in that pit waiting to come back to his farm. “After a few weeks, people started getting antsy. Started wandering off from the forest. After a while, I said, Laura, we’re going home.”
“And we did,” Laura finished.
“And we did,” he repeated, wrapping an arm around her. “I threw her over my shoulder and marched us right back to the farm.”
His sentence made me think of Oron and how he’d thrown me over his shoulder: the many times he’d done so, in fact. It made me think of how safe he made me feel, even now: even the last time he manhandled me. I knew he needed to make a point and to be the boss—to tell me I was going back to the tower and that was that. But I never doubted that he would leave with me.
Thought, obviously he doubted it, because he’d been quiet ever since.
I couldn’t imagine what it felt like to betray your entire crew.
“And they’ve never come back to bother you?” I asked the couple, speaking of the Vithohn.
Their odd, familiar exchange reemerged again, and this time John admitted, “Once.”
“But you got to stay here,” I concluded.
“Yes,” he nodded and rubbed the top of Laura’s wrinkled hand with his. “And we’ve been here ever since.”
How nice, I thought. That they got to spend their entire lives together—to live a full life in two different worlds. One of the human governments and the other post-apocalyptical, after the Vithohn came. Two different versions of the same life, spent entirely together.
“I’m sorry you had to go through all that,” Oron finally said. His voice was smaller than I had ever heard it before: remorseful. “I can’t imagine.”
“Ah, well,” the old man shifted awkwardly, clearly not wanting to talk about it. “I won’t hold it against you.”
“And why’s that?” Oron asked genuinely, his brows cupping in a U-shape.
“I’ve made my peace with it,” John said.
“We believe one day there will be peace between everyone. The humans, the Vithohn.”
Oron raised his brows and looked back down again, muttering, “Wouldn’t that be something.”
“Statistically, there are not enough humans in the world to make that happen,” Jareth piped up, counting quietly on his elongated fingers.
There was a dreary silence in the air after that until the old couple began to laugh, both at the same time.
“Well, aren’t you a little slice of sunshine,” Laura said.
“I’m sorry,” I said, embarrassed.
“Sounds to me like Jareth has seen what a woman’s touch can do to the mind of a Vithohn,” Laura continued, shaking her head
John raised a finger. “To any man.”
“Yes, yes,” Laura nodded, patting his hand. “To any man.”
“Precisely,” Jareth continued, squirming on the couch. “In order for the Vithohn to be calmed, they must be with a female partner. To my knowledge, there are only seven thousand humans remaining on the Earth, give or take. And not all of them are female. That is not enough to combat the thousands of Vithohn who now inhabit this planet.”
The room went silent after that until Laura decided it was time to make a big dinner for everybody. She made boiled rabbit and a side of potatoes, which made me laugh when I saw Oron’s less-than-favorable reaction to the food.
Despite the outwardly large appearance of the farmhouse, there were only three bedrooms and one bathroom upstairs, so Oron and I shared a bed. The room was old, with wooden walls and nearly ancient paintings of tractors and horses on them.
I marveled at everything in the house, realizing that this was what it must have been like back before the war. This was what real bathrooms were like: what decorating would have been like.
It gave me a strange feeling: to miss something I never had.
“I can’t sleep,” I said as I rolled over onto Oron’s chest.
“Neither can I.”
“We haven’t really had much of a chance to talk about all this,” I said quietly, twirling a finger along his muscular chest.
“What’s to say,” he whispered with a shrug.
“What made you leave, Oron?” I asked.
“I told you: I love you. There is no one I would rather spend my time with. I’ve never felt anything like that. I want to give you everything. I know I can’t—not yet, but, one day I will.”
“Everything will be better soon,” I agreed, closing my eyes and laying down on him.
“There’s something we’re not being told,” Oron said, unnerved. “I feel unsettled. Jareth feels it, too.”
“Jareth is unsettled by everything,” I giggled. “He says my smell makes his tongue tingle.”
“He’s unconventional, but he’s also brilliant. I wouldn’t be so quick to question poor Jareth,” he mocked and then his face went surprised, like he just realized something. “Come to think of it…” He kissed me: one quick peck after another before announcing, “You make my tongue tingle, too!”
We made love in the bed and I pretended like this was our house: our farm. And we would raise children here, and I would grow potatoes just to keep our inside joke going. I pretended that I’d bought the paintings on the wall from a famous artist on the other side of the world and how Oron insisted I have them.
I thought about us having breakfast together and spending lazy afternoons having sex out by the lake just south of the property. And then I climaxed, pressing my fingertips into Oron and listening to his whispered orgasm.
He looked up at me, sweating and sliding his hands down my torso as he usually did.
And at that moment, I wanted to live in that dusty old farmhouse forever.