Chapter One
(Macie)
My name is Dr. Macie Larkson, I’m twenty-eight years old, and approximately two weeks ago, aliens invaded my planet. No, I’m serious. Actual, real-life aliens, only these aliens don’t look like the creatures you see on TV or in movies. No. These creatures look just like you or I—which makes them much worse than the monsters you see on TV. It’s near to impossible to know who is friend, and who is foe. The only real difference between our races is their eyes’ irises, which glow naturally.
Well, natural for them. For us, it’s downright freaky.
Before the invasion occurred, I was working in my clinic, and had over twenty employees. The neighborhood was thriving with business and there was people moving into the community daily, but now, I’m the only one alive in a five-mile radius.
How’s that possible?
Simple. I was very lucky that day. The clinic was closed on the day of the invasion, and I was cleaning the underground shelter Blake—my older brother—inhabited. Blake has schizophrenia, so when I bought this clinic a little over a year ago and found this underground shelter, I knew it’ll be perfect for my brother and I. Here, I could go to work without having to worry about Blake and if he had a meltdown, I was always close enough to aid him.
But on the day our world was taken over, I convinced Blake to go into town to buy some more non-perishables and other miscellaneous supplies for the shelter—which truly wasn’t necessary, considering Blake had that place jammed packed with enough food and medical supplies for two people to survive underground for several months. But I requested he go anyway, as I did every couple of weeks, to make him leave the shelter so he could slowly conquer his fears of the outside world. He always thought something like an invasion would happen, but I never believed him, discounting his theories as nothing more than paranoia. Until his worst nightmare came to life within hours.
Blake set a high-tech security system outside the clinic, so when the invasion occurred, the alarms alerted me about the danger that lurked just outside and all the safety locks secured the clinic, so no one could get in. I tried to leave the clinic, but when the alerts go off, no one, not even the person inside, could leave until the threat is gone. And when I glanced at the chaos outside, at all the people being killed by the glowing eyed monsters, I ran back to the shelter and locked myself in until the threat was gone from our area. I managed to search for survivors around several days later, but I found no one still alive.
I looked at countless bodies, but I didn’t see my brother amongst them.
Now Blake’s missing, probably dead, along with all the other people in our town, and I’m alone.
And this all happened because one man thought he could rule the world by destroying another.
Our country’s leader, President Trancy, declared war on a neighboring plant—Toria—without the approval of Congress, and that is what started this mess. We have known about planet Toria since 2060, about ten years ago, and President Trancy knew full well that we shouldn’t engage in violence with them—considering they’re technically more advanced than us and physically stronger—and yet, he gathered an army and sent them to Toria to destroy their capital.
Not a week later, Torian warriors invaded Earth and now we’re in an all-out invasion.
I eye the canned food, located on a metal rack near the far left side of the room, and tears form in my eyes. All the cans are neat and tidy, thanks to Blake’s extreme OCD, and the foods are all in alphabetical order. I haven’t eaten today, not feeling well, but I know I need to eat something. I also probably need to take some vitamin D, since I haven’t been outside in almost two weeks. It’s amazing to realize how many things a person takes for granted, such as standing outside in the sun, soaking up the warm heat.
Shaking off my internal thoughts, I grab one of the various soups from the shelf, and then promptly drop it when I hear a loud crash upstairs in my clinic. I’m frozen in place, shaken to the core, and utterly terrified that the Torians finally found my secret shelter. And after several minutes have passed by, I gain enough courage to grab my pistol from the drawer next to Blake’s bed, climb up the ladder, open up the trap-door that connects the clinic to the underground shelter, and peek my head up to make sure no one is in the room in which the shelter is hidden under. When I hear no noises nearby, I climb up the last few steps of the ladder, climb out, and open the coat closet that hides the hidden trapdoor.
CRASH!
I jump up and make a tiny squeak. Covering my mouth, my eyes are wide with fear that they might have heard me, but the silence that follows tells me that they hadn’t. Taking deep, even breaths, I step out of the closet and creep up towards the door of the room and open it slowly. Once again, I poke my head out and look from left, to right, but I see no one and there’s no noise indicating where the crashes came from.
I go left, which leads to the front of the clinic, and I grip my pistol in my hand harder. Although I’m terrified right now, the gun in my hand gives me a sense of calm and grounds me right now. I know a Torian warrior will have more advanced weaponry than I, but still, knowing I have some way of defending myself makes me feel less afraid.
I know I should stay in the hidden shelter and lock myself in there until a few days have passed and I know for sure I was safe, but the possibility that Blake somehow made it back, safe and well, has my feet moving closer and closer into the unknown. Plus, I have a lot of equipment and medicine in this clinic that I would not want to see get into the hands of the Torians. I refuse to aid them in their quest for world destruction, and I’m willing to die fighting for my planet.
But, hopefully, it won’t come to that.
A moan comes from the front of the building and I know I’m getting closer to seeing if this person who broke in is friend, or foe. I reach my hand out to the door that connects the reception room up front with the examination rooms in the back and quickly open the door.
What I see isn’t what I expected.
A man, with hair as dark as night, and skin as fair as the moon itself, lies on the marble ground of the clinic and his blood—which is coming mostly from his head—is turning the white titles on the ground crimson red. Besides his head injury, he has sustained quite a few deep cuts on his arms, hands, and face.
His chest is moving, so I know he’s alive, but from the way his chest is moving up and down slowly, and his face is pinched with pain, I know he’s suffering right now and needs medical attention as soon as possible.
I holster my gun and begin running around the clinic, grabbing things I need, while keeping an eye on the man on the floor to make sure he’s still breathing. Once I have everything, I drop down to my knees next to him and begin evaluating his wounds closer. Oddly enough, his head injury isn’t as bad as I assumed it was in the beginning, so I work on making the bleeding stop and then add stitches to his head. He doesn’t move, but his moans of agony are breaking my heart. I hate hurting him, but this needs to be done in order for him to live, so I push past my guilt and continue working on his injuries.
When I’m done with his head, I go to the cuts on his face, cleaning them before I stitch the wounds together. His eyelashes flutter rapidly, but he doesn’t open his eyes. I study his face, my heart beginning to beat rapidly, and I’m embarrassed to say that I find myself attracted to this man, whom I don’t even knows name. He has the prettiest face I’ve ever seen, sweet while he sleeps, but his dark hair—that’s unruly and curly—adds a certain darkness to him. He’s wearing some sort of green uniform, so I’m assuming he’s a soldier who was injured protecting our planet. My left hand moves on it’s own accord, to cup his perfect face, but I quickly stop myself.
Focus, Macie, I say to myself and continue working on the man, adding ointment to his cuts before I bandage the shallow cuts that don’t need stitches.
Five minutes later and I’m finished patching the man up. He shows no signs of waking up anytime soon and that troubles me. We can’t stay here in the front of the clinic, where the Torians can see us, so I have to get us away from here and quick.
I grab his hands in mine and flinch when an electric stock passes between us. I eye my hands, rubbing them together to get the tingling sensation out of my hands, before I try again, Gripping his hands, I pull with all my might and manage to drag him a few yards before I need to stop to take a break. For a man who looks light, he sure is heavy. Giving myself a minute to rest, I grab his hands again and then manage to drag him another few yards. I repeat this process several more times until I get to the examination room, that has the shelter below it, and close the door behind me, making sure to lock it as I do. I press my hands to the door and bend over, trying to catch my breath, which takes me several minutes to do so.
This, ladies and gentlemen, is the reason why I’m a doctor and not an athlete.
When I’m finally breathing normally again, I turn around, only to see that the man is no longer on the floor. I panic, wondering where in the room he could have gone to with his wounds, and walk several feet forward in a daze.
Did I imagine the whole thing?
When cool metal touches my throat I freeze.
What the hell?
I feel his breath at my ear before he speaks. “Who the hell are you?” He growls out, pressing the knife harder to my throat when I try to move away in fear. “Where am I?” I don’t answer him, too scared to utter a word, and he grunts in displeasure at my silence. He sniffs me and blanches. Removing the knife from my neck, he pushes me away from him.
I stubble forwards, but manage to remain on my feet. I turn around and my eyes widen when I see his eyes.
“You’re a human?” He asks, eyes holding shock and confusion.
I swallow hard and narrow my eyes at him. “Yes. And you’re a Torian.” I say, spitting the words out in disgust.
I healed him. I saved his life. But at the end of the day, I aided the one man who will be responsible for my death. I feel for my gun—my only chance to escape this situation alive, and clench my fists hard when I don’t find it. Glancing up, I’m pissed when I see that the Torian warrior, not only has it in his hands, but if smirking at me as he twirls it around in his hand. He’s using the wall to hold himself up, still injured, but since he has my gun now, he’s in control, wounds be damned.
He studies my face and chuckles. “Looking for something, Angel?”
My green eyes stare into his glowing blue ones and I close my eyes in acceptance. “I’m such an idiot. I should have pried your eyes open before I saved you.” I open my eyes and glower at him. “If I had known you were my enemy, sent to kill my people, I wouldn’t have saved you. I would have let you die, like you made our people die. Innocent people. People who wanted no part in this bloodbath.”
The man observes me and takes a step forward. I don’t move back and instead, I stand my ground, which seems to amuse him. He stops walking when he’s directly in front of me and lifts a finger to my face, hovering just over my skin before he trials the finger down my cheek. I’m ashamed to say, I close my eyes and enjoy my killers touch.
I’m fucked up.
How can I like his touch when he’s about to kill me?
“How can a human, my supposed enemy, be so kind?” he whispers. “And so beautiful?”
His words confuse me, but before I can comment on them, I feel an electric shock where he’s touching me and my eyes pop open. I see blue electricity forming between both of us and when he places a full hand on my face, my body feels like it’s being lifted from the ground.
“I...no, I couldn’t have…” the man is staring at me with fear and puzzlement, all the while my mind is becoming foggy and my body is growing limp. “It’s impossible.” I hear him mutter out before I lose all control of my body and my eyes roll to the back of my head.
I feel the man catch me in his arms and hear him mumbling words into my ears—words I can’t comprehend—and then nothing.
With one caressing touch, this man has rendered me useless.