Chapter 3 The Runaway

Soul:    The essential element or part of something;             The inspirer or moving spirit of some action or movement.

- Definition of the word ‘soul’ (Dictionary)

I wake up with the sound of clattering in the kitchen. A smile makes its way to my lips and I keep my eyes closed. Sara, our cook is making me breakfast, A few more minutes and she will come in to wake me up to get ready for school. She is the one that practically raised me. My parents are always away on some business trip. As they are now.

The door opens and I slowly open my eyes.

But it is not Sara that is standing in the doorway with a tray in her hands.Standing there is a boy around my age, with ginger hair and the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. Freckles cover most of his face and he smiles at me.And suddenly I’m wide awake.I sit up with a start and stare at him wide-eyed. How could I let myself forget?“Good morning,” he smiles and walks into the room, “I’m glad you’re awake. You had me worried for a while when you fainted last night.”I back away from him until I hit the headboard. He sits down on the bed and sets the tray between us. My stomach growls and he hands me a plate. I stare at it for a long time, unsure what to do with it.

“You don’t like scrambled egg and bacon?” he asks, “I can make you something else. I have fresh baked bread too.”

I’m still staring at the food, but then I decide he has no reason to poison me. If he wanted me dead, he could have given me to the seekers last night. “No, it’s fine,” I hear myself say and I take the plate from him. I’m too hungry to care anyway and the bread looks delicious.

He watches me eat with that same smile on his face, but it doesn’t creep me out anymore. It suits his face, like it belongs there. Still, it doesn’t explain why he betrayed his kind to help me.

“Why did you help me last night?” I ask between bites, “why not hand me over to the seekers?”He tilts his head and his eyes move upwards as if he’s thinking about his answer. “I was curious,” he says, “I’ve never seen a human before.”I lower my fork and stare at him. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”He smiles again. “I mean a real human. I’ve studied human behavior before coming to this planet and I’ve done research about the human body while being here, but I’ve never seen a real human. I was curious about you. I always believed humans were cruel by nature.”“Not all of them,” I mutter.“So it would seem,” he says puzzled. He looks at me thoughtful. “Why did you agree to come with me?”I decide to tell him the truth. There’s no use in lying. “I was afraid you’d be suspicious if I declined,” I tell him, “I planned to escape as soon as you were distracted.”

He seems to think about that. “You could have just killed me,” he points out.

I can’t believe he would actually suggest that. I mean, he is a soul, right? He shouldn’t even be able to think about something like that. “That would be murder,” I say as if it wasn’t completely obvious.“Why?” he asks, “because of what I look like? I didn’t think I’d be human in your eyes… If I hadn’t looked human, would you have killed me?” He still thinks I could actually do that.I sigh. “If you hadn’t looked human, I wouldn’t have been out in the open.”

My answer must have amused him, because he smirks now instead of merely smiling and he sticks out his hand. “I’m Burns Living Flowers by the way. Burns for short. Can I have your name?”“I stare at his hand, but don’t shake it. I know a bit about the other planets they took over. His name must be from his last planet, translated into human language. It sounds cruel and unfitting to this kind face, but I answer him nonetheless. “Emma,” I say, “Emma Dupree.”

***

It feels great to be able to take a real shower again with hot streaming water instead of a quick dive in an icy river. I’m still a prisoner, but at least a privileged one. There’s even a lock on the door.

My leg feels much better. He treated it while I was unconscious. I don’t know what he did exactly, but I chose not to ask. It only left a small, barely visible scar. He left clothes for me as well, since mine were little more than shreds.

I still plan to escape, but I’m in need of clothes and I’m not going to turn down a shower. Besides, he is still in the house. What was it again? Burns Living Things? A shiver makes its way down my spine despite the hot water. The cruel name doesn’t fit the kind nature of souls and I wonder what kind of monster he was on the last planet he visited.

The house is quiet when I get downstairs. Of course that doesn’t mean he’s not here. He could be hiding somewhere, watching me, waiting to turn me over to the seekers. Despite of what he said, I know he’ll do that in the end. He has no other choice. He’s a soul and I’m a human.

I come across a room that looks like a study and curiosity takes over. I mean, how often do you get the chance to take a peek into the life of an alien? Besides, I might find something useful. Maybe there is information about human sightings. Or a map of where the insertion centers are. If I can get a hold of that, I’ll know which towns to avoid.I step inside, after carefully checking if the room is empty.

There’s a large desk in the center of the room and a chart is spread out on it. But it’s not the one I want to find. It’s a map of a mountain range. Several spots are marked on it, but I don’t know what they indicate. As far as I know, nothing is there.

A cold hand lock around my heart. What if this Burns Living Things is a seeker after all and these markings are spots they have checked? It would explain why he didn’t hand me over last night. There was no need for that. He is a seeker himself. A special kind of seeker that catches humans by deceiving them, trying to gain their trust. And I fell for it. I walked into a trap with my eyes wide open.

I have to leave. Right now.

Silently I search my way through the house, which is still quiet. I guess he rally isn’t here. Probably gathering the other seekers or something. Yes, I do realize I’m sounding paranoid, but anyone in this position would do the exact same thing.

I find the kitchen by accident, but I don’t have to think twice. My bag was beside the bed when I woke up and now I stuff it with food.

I don’t feel any remorse about stealing this creature’s stuff. It’s survival now. My survival.

I take the bread from this morning, butter, cheese and meat from the fridge. In the cabinet I find a box of Twinkies and I take that too, along with two bottles of water. I find a box of matches and snatch those. Perhaps I can make soup with herbs I find in the forest. Which reminds me. I noticed a book in his study that might help me. A guide with edible and poisonous plants. That will be of use while I’m on the run. I’ve never been on camping trips, so I don’t know much about the wild. I’ll admit that I’ve been spoiled, but it’s not my fault we had money. This guide will make sure I don’t have to raid as much. Perhaps I can avoid civilization all together now. Is it possible to survive on things from the wild alone?

Nervously I glance at the door. There’s no telling when he will come back and I want to be far away by the time he does.

I snatch a blanket from the bedroom and tie it to my bag. I have to leave now. The problem is, it’s the middle of the day and the streets are crowded. I can’t sneak away. This is the middle of a city. I will be seen. Can I take that risk?

Biting my lip, I decide I have no choice. I glance at the clock. It’s two in the afternoon. I don’t know why that is significant. Maybe it’s just a  habit of mine. A need to know the time.

A sigh escapes my mouth as I take one last look around the  house. Again, I wish I had somewhere to stay. A place to call my own. Somewhere safe. This is actually a nice house. Not as ridiculously big as our old house, just big enough.

But I can’t stay.

I need to keep moving and without lingering any longer I step onto the street and pull the door closed behind me.

There is no going back. There is only going forward.

Slowly but surely I make my way down the street. Rain starts drizzling from the sky and I pull up my hood. I hate the rain, cause it will mean all my belongings will be damp later, but it also means less people in the streets.

I pass a  bus stop and check the time tables, wondering if it’s safe to catch a ride. After that shower and with this new set off clothes, I don’t look as trampled as I did before. I can almost pass for a soul. Almost.

No one pays me much attention when I continue my way. Pretty soon I’m completely lost. I should have stolen a map. There are still enough souls out, but I ask no one for directions. If this Burns Living Things starts asking people questions, I don’t want them to remember me. For the first time in my life I don’t want to be a memory.

Of course, for that to succeed I have to act like I actually belong here. It shouldn’t be that hard.

Like I said, I’ve been pretending all my life.

“Emma, hurry up dear. We still have so much to do,”  my mother chirps as her high heels clatter against the tiles in the salon.

 

I don’t give any reaction. Not that she would notice if I did. When she gets like this she only hears her own voice. It’s the sound she likes best anyway. And she proves me right again, because she continues talking without even looking my direction.

 

I watch her move across the salon, her hands fluttering as she speaks.

 

“I’m so excited. Your father worked really hard for this breakthrough and finally his efforts will be acknowledged. This is an important prize. All of society will be there. We need new dresses and I made an appointment for you with the hairstylist this afternoon.”

 

I sigh and block out my mother’s voice. I don’t need a new dress. I hate dresses and I have at least fifty of them in my walk-in closet that I’ve never worn before. Some still have the tags on. If my mother wanted a daughter so badly, then she should have stayed at home more often when I was younger.

 

Would it have made a difference? Would I have been the girly girl she so obviously wants me to be?

 

I am more like my father. At least I think I am. I must be, since my mother and I have nothing in common.

 

I don’t see much of my father. He’s always working. He is a quiet man, but everyone is quiet compared to my mother. She just won’t let you interrupt her.

 

“Emma? Emma are you listening?”

 

I look up from my sketchbook now. “Yes mother I heard you. Hairdresser.”

 

Why does she only ever remember me when it comes to her dress-up projects? She should know by now it’s not my thing. But of course she wouldn’t. She’s completely blind when it comes to that. After all, every girl likes to dress up, right? Right?

 

But I undergo these days without any complaint while inside I’m screaming. I don’t like being the center of attention. And that is exactly what my mother loves to make me. I can only guess about her intentions.

 

My mother smiles at me and claps her hands. “You’re going to be so pretty.”

 

“It thought this was about dad,” I tell her.

 

My mother simply sighs. “Ah Emma. This is about your father, but his two girls will be standing right beside him. Everyone will look at us. We need to shine next to him.

 

I roll my eyes, but make sure my mother doesn’t see. I don’t want another lecture about lady-like behavior. It’s better to just go along with whatever plan she had and get it over with.

 

And so I find myself up on the stage that evening, next to my parents. Smiling into cameras while flashes blind my eyes. Smiling while my father gets handed his prize. Smiling when journalists compliment my parents with their beautiful daughter.

 

My eyes find a figure in the back of the room, sitting with his parents. And they stay locked on him. He stares right back at me. He is the only one that knows how fake I really am.

 

 

Here I am, strolling along the deserted highway. The rain had become worse and I am completely drenched. My feet are killing me and I feel like crap. I wish I could go home and soak in a hot tub with music playing in the background, listening to the rain against the window.

Instead I’m outside, soaking in the rain and without any music at all.

I decided to take the risk of encountering any traffic, because the pavement is so much easier to walk on than the irregular mountain trail.

In any case, if a car should become visible, I’ll have time to hide behind the rocks alongside the road.

My feet are dragging and I move almost mechanically. Left. Right. Left. Right. There seems to be no end to this road.

I sneeze.

Great. Now I’m sick too.

Even if I do find shelter for the night, it won’t make a difference. I’ll never dry again. And the day is still long.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alone, not evening the early days of my running. But there is something tragic about walking in the pouring rain by yourself alongside an abandoned highway. It feels like the whole world is really deserted instead of just overrun.

I’m surrounded by grey, like all color has been sucked away as well. I start to wonder if the next few steps will bring me into nothingness. Maybe the rain will dissolve me.

I sneeze again and shiver. The road sign I just passed indicates that I have sixty-eight more miles to go until the next town. My brain has trouble processing the number. Is sixty-eight miles far? How far have I walked already?

Maybe I can travel to another planet too.

I wonder what it would be like. I wonder what it is that makes these creatures want to abandon their home. Is their home planet that tragic? Does it rain there as well?

My feet are dragging and every now and then I trip. I should really take some rest, but if I sit down now, I don’t think I can get up again. I need to keep moving, but don’t have anywhere to go.

The rain is a thick curtain now and it’s hard to see anything. My teeth are clattering. Ahead of me, something flickers through the rain.

White, in a curtain of grey. I try to listen for sounds, but the rain drowns it all out. Something deep inside warns me it’s not safe, that I should move out of the way, but my brain doesn’t make the connection. A memory from long ago flashes through my mind. Something from a movie I once saw.

“Don’t follow the lights.”

 

I don’t know why it is funny, but I start to laugh and somehow I can’t stop.

Too late I realize what those lights really are.

They’re headlights.

And I know it’s all over.

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A/N Next one will be Burns :) Hope you enjoyed.