Homicidal Aliens and Other Disappointments (6 page)

“Um . . .” Catlin says.

“No um,” I say.

“Sorry, but there is an um,” Catlin says. “You’re a dreamwalker. ‘Just a dream’ doesn’t work for you.”

Lauren frowns, which makes me frown, too.

“It could be just a dream,” I insist.

“You met me in a dream. I’m pretty real, right?” Catlin says.

Small and pretty and very real. Sometimes I feel like she’s the most real thing in my life. I immediately regret this thought.

“That was different,” I say.

“Real is real. Dreams are dreams,” Lauren says, like she is stating the obvious, which once would have been true but isn’t anymore. “He can tell the difference.”

“It’s hard for dreamwalkers sometimes,” Catlin says.

Great. On top of everything else, now it’s hard for me to know what’s real and what’s a dream. The list of what’s hard for me just keeps growing.

“Look,” Lauren says, “not all dreams can be true even for someone with Jesse’s —” She frowns. What to call it?

“Talent,” Catlin says.

Lauren’s frown deepens, because can this really be a talent? I wonder myself. “Whatever it is,” she says, “it’s not like every dream Jesse has is going to be real, right?”

“Your hunter sounds kind of real to me,” Catlin says. “The way you said he felt powerful. The way he could sense you even though you didn’t want him to. A dreamwalker is very protected in a dream; even when you were weaker, you managed to get away from Lord Vertenomous. This hunter must be incredibly powerful to have sensed you and almost destroyed you.”

“But if the dream was real,” Lauren says grudgingly, “then what does it tell us?”

“I don’t know,” Catlin says.

“It means they won’t stop,” I say.

“Won’t stop what?”

Catlin understands. “They won’t stop coming.”

“They won’t stop until there’s no more space. They will fill our world,” I say.

“Oh, my God,” Lauren says. “We need to tell people. If this is going to happen, they need to know the facts so they can decide what to do. We can’t fight billions. There aren’t enough of us.”

“There never will be enough,” I say. “We could stay in those caves for a thousand years. It wouldn’t matter.”

“We should get Doc to allow us to talk at tonight’s meeting,” Lauren says decisively. She says most things decisively. It’s one of the things I like about her. “The sooner people know what we’re up against, the sooner we can start preparing a strategy.”

“I think Jesse should tell Doc about his dream before we tell everyone else,” Catlin says. “Doc is in charge.”

It doesn’t take a mind reader to sense what Lauren thinks, but she begrudgingly agrees. “Doc first, but everyone needs to know.”

Zack, Zelda by his side, waves from across the camp where they’re eating. I’m thinking I’d like to join them. I’m thinking something smells good.

“I’ll go talk to Doc after breakfast,” I say, returning Zack’s wave.

Lauren shoots me a look. “How can you think of food at a time like this, Jesse?”

It isn’t hard. I think of food pretty regularly — and other things she’d be even more disappointed to know about. I don’t say any of this, though. Instead, I give Zack a helpless shrug and dutifully follow Lauren and Catlin down the main path to a smaller side path that leads to the big brown circus tent that the rebels use as a town hall.

Inside are desks, tables, and chairs and even some office-looking stuff: computers and phones and radios and a TV. The aliens systematically destroyed our machines when they invaded because, apparently, out there in the big universe there is an empire of machine worlds that they’re at war with. Even though our machines are primitive, the aliens don’t trust them. These are the first machines I’ve seen since I worked on a machine-destruction crew in the early days after the invasion.

The phones in the tent aren’t cell phones; they’re landlines hooked to cables, which stretch out of the tent and down the mountain toward the strange brown and white restaurant (it looks like it’s made of gingerbread) at the bottom of the ski runs. I wonder if they work — and if they do, who we would even call? Is there anyone left to answer?

A woman stands in front of Doc and complains about her neighbor. She’s short and wide, with brown hair that looks like it has been chopped off with a knife. Which it probably was.

“You’ve got to do something. I can’t sleep.”

“We can move you,” Doc says. “I’m afraid it would have to be to Section 4 due to the growing population.”

“Oh, no, you don’t. You aren’t moving me out to the boonies. He’s the one who snores. He should move. Could you sleep to this?”

She demonstrates the snoring with several loud snorts and a long whistle. Catlin, Lauren, and I laugh. Big mistake. The woman swings around. Unfortunately, her anger focuses on me. Both Lauren and Catlin cover their smiles with totally fake coughs.

“Something funny about my not being able to sleep, young man?”

“Not at all,” I say, doing my best to smile congenially (another Mom word). “People who snore are a menace to society.”

“Are you trying to be funny?”

“No, ma’am,” I say, no longer smiling. Where’s the Warrior Spirit now? I bet a lot of those people who want to believe I’m the Chosen One would give up hope if they saw me with this woman.

Apparently the
ma’am
works. (I’m from Texas, and we know the value of a well-placed
ma’am.
) The woman turns back to Doc.

“That man has got to be stopped. If you don’t do something about him, then I will,” she says ominously, and stomps out of the tent. There is a bit of a waddle to her stomp because of what my mom would have called her robust figure, but somehow it doesn’t weaken her ability to intimidate. None of us laughs even after she’s out of sight.

Doc lets out a long sigh. “I hope she doesn’t poison him or smother him in his sleep before I can get this resolved. The problem is, the man is as stubborn as she is. I’m surprised they aren’t married.” He pauses. “Come to think of it, maybe they were once.”

He puzzles over this for a few seconds and then waves away the thought. “Well, what can I do for you three? Someone snoring in your neighborhood, too?”

This is where I’m supposed to tell him all about my dream-that-maybe-wasn’t-a-dream. But I chicken out, and instead I point to the phones. “Do those work?”

Doc nods. “The aliens took out the satellites in the first attack, but we’ve had some success with landlines. We’ve been able to talk with other survivors in Albuquerque and even, once, in San Diego. You want to make a call?”

Lauren, being Lauren, has no patience for this. She tells Doc all about my dream, but she doesn’t stop there. She gives some reasons he should allow her to speak at the meeting tonight and inform the New Americans. She expands from this into democratic principles and her disapproval of one person, no matter how benevolent he might be, being all-powerful.

“Did you not just see me dealing with Mrs. Taylor?” Doc says. “Did I look all-powerful to you?”

“You’re the head of the Wind Clan, though,” Lauren says.

“Actually, I’m the head of Jupiter House,” he says, “and Wind Clan.”

“I’m just saying New America should be different. We should be a democracy, with an elected official and an informed populace. A populace that gets to choose whether to stay and fight or to try a different approach.”

If Doc is upset by what Lauren is saying, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he regards her with the steady gaze of a teacher — which makes sense, given that’s what he was before all this. “Perhaps sometime in the future you’ll be right. Perhaps we will be able to hold elections and make New America a true democracy.”

“What’s wrong with now?” she says.

“We’re at war,” he says.

“So what? The democracy is put on hold until we defeat the aliens? And if that doesn’t happen right away and you become too old to rule — or if you die in the battle — then your son inherits? It’s like a monarchy.”

I see Doc appreciating something he hasn’t before. Lauren’s telepathic abilities aren’t strong, and she has no special talent, but she is talented. She’s scary smart. She’s a natural leader. She is relentless.

“There will be time to consider these issues in the future. I’m not on my deathbed just yet,” says Doc.

I can feel the frustration radiating off Lauren like a fever. Doc adds, “As for your request to inform the people of the approaching settlers, I’m afraid I have to ask you to keep quiet about that for now.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.”

“People are close to panic, Lauren. It would be foolish to give them more cause for alarm without knowing if this information is accurate.”

Lauren doesn’t look convinced. “How can we verify what Jesse saw?” she asks.

“We’ll leave that up to Running Bird,” Doc says.

“Why Running Bird?”

“He is talented in many ways, a priest, even if he has withdrawn his vows. He knows many hidden secrets. And he is the smartest person I know. He will help Jesse discover the truth of his dreams.”

Lauren looks about as skeptical as I feel. But Catlin seems to accept what he says right away.

Doc tells me that Running Bird will find me when he’s ready. In the meantime, we agree to keep the doomsday news to ourselves — which I’m more than happy to do.

I never do get to have breakfast. By the time Lauren, Catlin, and I leave the tent, the breakfast dishes are being put away. I hope Lauren can hear my stomach rumbling as we walk back to our campsite, but she looks too preoccupied to hear much of anything.

“I’ve always hated secrets,” she tells me. “He’s forcing us to keep secrets.”

“Just for a little while,” I say.

“He’s like a king,” she says. “This is America. New America. Whatever. It should be a democracy.”

She asks Catlin if all the houses and clans are like this. Catlin doesn’t know. She wasn’t that interested in politics. This earns her a lecture in responsibility from Lauren. I find myself getting sleepy, and I say I’m going to rest a little in my tent. I ask Lauren if she maybe wants to catch a nap. I’m thinking a little alone nap time might help us get back to those feelings we seemed to have for each other on the trip here. She says she doesn’t nap, and I can tell she doesn’t approve of the whole concept of sleeping during the day.

I do. Especially considering how little sleep I’ve had the past few nights. I hardly lie down before I’m sound asleep, and I sleep until someone — Catlin, it turns out — wakes me.

“Running Bird said you’re supposed to go to the main tent.”

I roll over, but she shakes me. “Now.”

I grumble about it, but I go. And then he isn’t even there. I ask Doc where he is, and he doesn’t know, hasn’t seen him. That’s when two scouts come in and tell Doc it’s safe to make the run to Taos for supplies. Doc tells them to inform Dylan and the rest of the team that the mission is on.

“Tell them to meet here in five minutes,” Doc says.

Since I’m there and there’s no Running Bird, I ask Doc if I can go along.

“Are you sure?” Doc says.

“Yeah. I want to go.” Anyway, it will get me out of meeting with Running Bird. But then I have a strange thought. What if this was why he told me to come here? How could he know when the scouts would come back, though?

When Dylan shows up, he isn’t happy to hear Doc order him to take me along. “It’s my team,” Dylan says. “I decide who I take.”

Doc says, “It will be safer with Jesse. And he could use the experience.”

“Doc’s right,” one of the other guys says. “I saw Jesse fight. I’d feel safer if he came along.”

Dylan is not happy about this, not happy at all. But others say they want me along, too. He gives in.

“Good,” Doc says wearily, as though the exchange was taxing. And maybe it was. Maybe he and Dylan were engaged in some serious mindspeak that they shielded us from.

“Take your meds, old man,” Dylan says. “You look like hell.”

It’s rude, but he’s right. Doc’s face looks pale and drawn. But even as I think this, the impression of weakness fades and is replaced by a healthy glow. Either my eyes are playing some serious tricks on me or Doc did something to make himself seem healthier. What powers do these people have that I don’t even know about?

“Come on, then, if you’re coming,” Dylan says to me, and starts off down the path at a fast pace.

I start to follow but turn to catch a last look at Doc; he isn’t there. In fact, I can’t see the camp at all. It’s disappeared.

“Doc and Running Bird put a cloaking over the camp,” a girl just in front of me says over her shoulder. “You won’t be able to hear anything, either, until we get back up the path.”

“They’ve hidden the whole camp?” I say.

“As best they can. You can’t see it unless you’re close or have a special talent. We’re lucky Doc and Running Bird have the strength. Not many could do it over so much space.”

We continue down the trail, and after about ten minutes, we get to the vehicles. The girl goes to a blue truck, and I follow her. I’d like to hear more.

“You ride with me, New Blood,” Dylan says.

Lucky me,
I think.

“I heard that,” Dylan says.

Not surprisingly, the truck he has is one of those big trucks with big tires — the biggest truck of the three, I notice. Seeing it, I wish Lauren had come along. She might ask him what he’s compensating for. It’s the kind of thing she’d say and the kind of thing I’d love to hear her say.