A gust of cold autumn air slaps my cheeks.
I am in love with him. Why couldn’t I admit it to myself and say it to him when he was saying it to me? Why didn’t I say it before they wheeled him away? I knew it the moment I imagined that something horrible could really happen to him when he goes under the knife. I knew it the moment I imagined our child, some hypothetical little concoction of the two of us— and what I would feel if it was taken away. The joy of my realization swirls with my tears and my anger. It bubbles out of me in a manic, blubbery laugh.
In a daze, I stumble to the railing and lean against it, sucking in the crisp air. Clarity rings through me.
Thank God I am alone out here because I must look like a madwoman, crying and smiling. None of what Pakka says matters. Kila loves me and I love him and no matter what they say, we’re going to find a way to be together. As this truth settles over me, each breath feels like new life. My eyes close and I steady my breathing. I’m going to give myself time to get collected, and then I can march right back to the lab, get my work done, and find some special way to tell Kila that I love him.
I’m not sure how much time passes as I bask in the glow of my new revelation. But while I am leaning at the railing, enjoying the October chill, a blaring horn begins to sound. My hands clap to my ears on instinct.
It startles me, and my eyes immediately go to the rooftop access door. Inside, red lights are flashing. When I go to investigate, I peer through the glass panel and find that the security lights at the next landing down are going off. I pull at the handle, but the door is locked.
“Fuck,” I whisper, and jiggle it repeatedly to be sure its locked. I can faintly hear someone speaking through the intercom system, but I can’t make out what they are saying. It must be a security breach, but there’s no way I’ll be able to find out what’s going on from up here. I didn’t even bring my cell phone with me. For all I know, it could be a regular drill. But Jen usually tells me about those in advance.
Knowing the doors won’t unlock until the security system is no longer on alert, I move to the opposite side of the building. There is another railing there, and I am hoping to glean some information from what the security guards are doing. Some sort of chaos is transpiring over at the front gate. The protesters are scattering. Most of the group is running across the lot or getting into vehicles to drive away. Signs and various trash have been dropped where they stood, abandoned on the black top. But a small percentage of them are moving forward to the gates. From up above they look like ant people, but I see two bodies rush towards a security guard who is leaned up against the fence.
Then, the guard slumps and I realize in horror that the two protesters have run forward to help the man. The other people that have stayed are also helping. They fling open the doors to the guard tower and go inside. Am I to really believe that the guards inside there are also hurt? The siren goes on blaring as I begin to panic.
I don’t know how long I stand there, watching the scene out front near the gate. I have no idea what is going on, but I can’t lift a finger to help anyone. At the very least, I feel safe up here, but that doesn’t help my worries for Kila and the others. Kila is under, and he was supposed to be starting surgery when that siren went off. Could whatever happened have interrupted the surgeon, or caused some kind of accident? I clutch my arms around me and suck in air frantically.
On a positive note, it looks like one of the security guards has come to. Off in the distance, I hear more sirens— the familiar sound of police cars and ambulances. They must be headed here.
There’s a crash and a slam from behind me. I startle, whipping around in time to see black clad figures swarm through the roof access door. A scream rips from me before I have any sense to think that being quiet might have been a better course of action.
Immediately, a gun is pointed my way. I clap my hands over my mouth and freeze. All the figures look to be men and they are wearing classic black masks with cut out eye holes. There are six of them in total— three with guns, three holding duffel bags.
“Hands up,” the man with the gun demands. I obey, slowly, trying not to provoke them.
“What do you think?” he says, nodding at one of the other guys. Behind him, one of the men with duffel bags has begun setting up some kind of rope on a propeller on the opposite edge of the building, the side that leads to the small back parking lot.
“Shove her down the stairs. No need to get messy,” the other replies.
Well, at least I’m not getting shot but I might still be dead in about five minutes. The man tucks the gun he pointed at me into his pants and moves toward me. I flinch involuntarily.
“Don’t fuck with me, or this fall will break your head open,” he growls at me. I nod, shivering all over. When he gets close, I see that they’ve even painted black around their eyes where the holes are to fully disguise themselves. “And don’t even think about screaming, or I’ll shoot you.”
He clamps down on my arm so hard I whimper and then begins to drag me to the door. The whole handle is jacked up from their forced entry to the roof. He swings it open and I tense up, bracing myself for the impact—
Then, nothing. He’s hesitating, still bruising my upper arm with his grip.
“Hey, look over here,” he shouts to his crew. “This is that bitch from the news. She’s the one, the one that talks about that bullshit race nobody’s ever seen.”
Then the others all turn to stare me down, and I wish I could disappear. I can’t bring myself to speak, afraid anything I say will result in pain or immediate death. Oh God, I think, stomach roiling. These are the people Vic tried to tell me about. They were planning something and they’ve done it. I almost freaking survived but now I am so dead— dead, dead, dead because I fucked an alien. Hey at least it was the best sex I ever had. These are the sad desperate thoughts of a woman who believes she’s about to die.
“Take her,” one of them says. I didn’t think I could get any more afraid. Wrong again. My fear expands until there’s nothing in my brain but a silent scream, the scream I can’t let out of my mouth. “We’ll see how long she can keep up the lies.”
“No… No, no, no,” I murmur, starting to wriggle and break away from his grip. “I don’t know anything. Please just leave me here—”
The man backhands me so hard that I see stars. The right side of my face begins to pulse as he hefts me over his shoulder. The other man takes off his glove and shoves it into my mouth until I’m choking on it, tasting the sweat. One by one they start to scale the back wall of the building, and the last one to go is my friendly captor.
“Here’s the deal,” he whispers. “If you try to screw around while we go down, I’ll drop you so fast you won’t have a chance to say you’re sorry, okay bitch? In fact, the game from here on out is what I like to call Survivor. The rules are, do what I say and maybe you’ll survive.”
He doesn’t wait for a reply and heaves me into a more balanced position. I’m faced with a wobbly view of the approaching ground as we propel downward. My mouth opens to scream but it only causes the glove inside to tickle my throat. I feel like I’m going to choke to death or throw up and be forced to swallow it. I don’t know whether it’s the fear, the pulsing pain in my face, or the ten stories between me and the parking lot, but I black out then and there.