A fucking radio. How could I have just forgotten about it? Was talking to Isra just distracting my mind, was my plan to stay behind and simply end myself clouding any sort of logical thinking? Surely, having another viable option would have kept my mind from going to that extreme, right? Did I just immediately gravitate to the most illogical and emotionally charged option because of what happened earlier that day, or because I had already been so close before this all went down? Maybe it was weakness, my own inability to see any sort of positive future for myself…

Questions, questions, but no answers.

The only thing I did know, was that there was now another path in front of me. With a radio, I could contact essentially anyone who may listen, and I knew the correct frequency of Xcom. I could fulfill the fears of Emir, call the big brother, get him in deep shit for what he did. The only two things in the way were the lock, which would be easy enough to either pick or shoot off and another thing, one I had failed to consider before I rushed out of the cabin.

If I called Xcom and they actually came, yes, our pursuers were more than likely going to leave us alone or die in the process. But that was hardly going to happen smoothly. Xcom had become the only form of order humans respected, they had the technology and size of a government, along with access to many military records. And yeah, there was that problem.

It came to me as I knelt down in front of the lock at the back of the garage. Isra slithered closely behind me, then stopped as she saw me inspecting the circular mechanism.

“Stop just walking away without talking to me!” Isra complained.

“Force of habit,” I responded coldly.

“What are you doing with those?” She motioned to the assortment of different-headed picks.

“They’re lockpicks, I’m picking this lock,” I stated the obvious.

“How do you know how to do that?” She asked, inspecting the thin metal pieces.

“A useful skill for anyone in the post-apocalypse, wouldn’t you agree?” I continued to make conversation, as I thoroughly looked at the cylinder.

Five pins, one driver pin at the start, a high shear-line, and solid steel housing. I had tried picking these locks before and it took time, but I had managed it once already. The only true variable here was the cold, as it made my fingers stiffer and less able to perform the precise movements required.

“And you can get this open? There’s a radio inside?” She leaned down next to me.

“To both, probably,” I responded.

“And we can call Xcom with that, right?”

I paused. “Yes, we can,” I stated calmly. ‘We could, but how do I even start this conversation? Do I want to?’

“That’s wonderful, then,” she announced. “If we get them involved, the doctor and her men will either have to stop hunting us entirely or we get support from Xcom directly.”

‘Absolutely wonderful,’ I chose to focus on the lock rather than answer.

“Is something wrong?” Her tone betrayed concern.

“No, I just need to concentrate,” I responded lightheartedly and looked back to her with a reassuring expression.

I was met with squinted eyes and a cocked head, she didn’t buy it, at least not completely.

“How long will this take?” She asked finally.

“Depends if I can figure out which heads to use and from there if I can keep my hands still in this cold,” I explained.

“The tortellini will be cold soon, do you not want to eat?” She turned her head to the cabin.

True, I was hungry, but perhaps this was a quiet opportunity. “I’ll eat after, you go back inside and eat now, I’ll call when I’m done here.”

She eyed me up and down, the reptilian slits of her eyes thinned slightly, her tongue flicked out, while her tail swayed back and forth. “Alright, but I will bring you food out here, I am interested in what you are doing.”

I suppressed a frustrated sigh, this snake wasn’t going to leave me alone, at least not as easy as most humans. She slithered back to the entrance and I got to work at figuring out which head was going to be the correct one.

Previously, it was a mixture of a short hooked end, along with a diamond-shaped safety pin. I picked out the two pieces and inserted the tension wrench at the bottom. I found immediate resistance, as the safety pin was uniquely far down. I grabbed the diamond pick and slowly wiggled it into any space the mechanism would give me.

It was a quiet bit of respite, a moment in which my body acted on training and conditioning, allowing my mind to try and find a reasonable solution. A simple fact was, the likelihood that Xcom would do good for Isra far outweighed the potential consequences. Besides, it was just not probable that they knew what I used to be. But the hole, despite how small the chances of falling in were, was deep. If they knew more than I told them, if they had access to records kept on secure servers, hell, even if they just looked up if I was still registered as alive, then I would be in trouble; and in turn, so would Isra.

If it was just me here, if the serpent wasn’t a factor, if I didn’t actually care about her safety, then I would call them without hesitation. Emir and Kura had done me wrong, sentient and uninvolved beings had been unjustifiably executed, revenge was in order. But revenge at the cost of the only one I managed to save? If my integrity, even if it was just because they could see my record ending in death, had been undermined, she would be in danger. Although I did doubt that just saying 'I am a military man plying dead', would raise any suspicion on its own, it was still cause for a little research.

But what was the alternative? Hoping that the radio was broken, break it myself and pretend it was an accident? Fail to call Xcom because we have no signal, how much did the snake know about radios? Have her call them and I disappear before they arrived?

No, what was I thinking? Xcom was realistically the only option we had to survive, getting them involved was not truly an idea I could discard. And yet, fear overcame me, a heightened and anticipatory sense of impending ruin coursed through my mind in waves.

Each singular heartbeat I felt dragged my mind deeper hole. I didn't fight it, it was useless to try.

‘You are not going to win this, you know that.’

The thought sunk within me like an infinitely deepening pool. My whole body suddenly felt heavy, pulled down to the ground, my posture dropped, and my view changed. Shapes began to swim, my vision was focused on everything and nothing at once, taking in the world around me as if looking at a still painting. I couldn’t feel my heartbeat, couldn’t feel my chest expand, nothing reached me, nothing except cold and this intrusively pulling gravity.

‘You know how this will end, you always do. You see the edge, you say to yourself it will be different this time. Better. But it never is, is it? You are unlucky, you know that. Things go wrong when you are involved, and you never fix it. You only make it worse.’

It was true, no matter how likely or unlikely a bad thing would be, it always found me. Emir being a filthy fucking traitor, it had floated in my mind before but I had ignored it. The client in Morrocco, reporting us immediately after hiring us, I had had a sour taste from the start but let myself be convinced by my team. Rescuing a scientist in a hot zone for some sketchy company, of course, was going to be a fucking slaughter, yet I had happily thrown myself at it.

And now this. The chances being low have never stopped a bad event from happening to me. And I had endured, god, I had endured. But it still wore me down, I admit that. It had left scars on my psyche and body, both visible and others more overt, ones that I covered. And here I was, still going for no true reason, serving no true purpose-except for that viper.

“Luis?”

A hand, four long fingers, touched my shoulder and I was shunted back to reality. The disconnected feeling in my body, which clearly separated mind from body, retreated into my core and the world returned. I spun my head around like a startled animal and found myself staring into the deep-blue eyes of the viper. She held two bowls wrapped in her tail. Concern twisted her features.

How long had I been sitting here?

I blinked, taking the extra second to formulate language. “I spaced out there,” I shook my head and looked back, pretending to go back to my task.

“What is that?” Of course she didn’t know that expression.

“It’s...a human thing where we just go...it’s when you do a thing that you know very well and just...stop being aware of reality,” my speech was unfocused, as I struggled to adjust to reality again. My thoughts were a murky soup of incoherency, that I tried to sift through with a fork. And yet, I gravitated toward a lie. I knew this wasn't because of some zoning-out, though I am still unsure of what exactly it is.

“So it is something that...turns off your mind?” Isra asked, interest beginning to overshadow her previous worry.

I was more than willing to go along with this, rather than trying to explain what was happening to me. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“That sounds similar to how I would describe my time in Advent. I did the same things, which never occupied my mind. It was a dulling repetitiveness of words, phrases, commands,” Isra explained.

At that moment, the initial safety bolt clicked and my attention truly snapped back to my task. Isra also reacted to the almost imperceptibly quiet noise.

“Did you do it?” She peeked over my shoulder

“No, that was the outermost layer, there are five more pins and all of them need to be pushed, then held, in a very specific height,” I explained, as I grabbed the next pick, a small triangle hook lay at the end.

“And you just hear if it sticks?” She asked.

“You also feel it in your fingers, or at least I would if it wasn’t so fucking cold,” I cursed, as I struggled to get the tin metal through the gap I had created.

“You curse a lot,” Isra noted.

“And?” I glanced over my shoulder for a second, letting the unfazed look speak for itself.

“Why do you do it?” She was just not going to let up.

“Because it allows me to express how much I fucking hate the fact that I cannot get this stupid pick inside!” My knuckles whitened, as I barely managed to keep my fingers from accidentally snapping that dammed piece of metal.

“Well, are you using the right one?” Nothing about her tone indicated that she was mocking me or even remotely challenging me. And yet-

“Of course I fucking am! And I’m freezing my ass off out here because I am just that fucking incompetent!” I let the equipment fall to the ground and spun upwards to face the serpent.

She recoiled, her entire body pulled back in an instant. And she was cowering, true fear in her eyes-fear of me. This natural predator, this massive alien from another world, four-or more-times the size of my body, was cowering. Her entire posture was turned away from me, like...like a child, afraid of getting beat by his parents.

I felt lightheaded, a deep sting inside my chest, an unplaceable pain in my body. My demeanor immediately changed, as I realized what I had done. I looked to the ground in guilt and shame, then closed my eyes for a second.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lash out like that,” I apologized, though I couldn’t bear to look into her eyes.

Slowly, her defensive posture shifted, though her eyes retained the fearful look for a while longer. “Luis, I can tell something is bothering you. And if it is something to do with me, I’m sorry. But please, just talk to me, tell me what’s wrong and I can help you. Let me help you,” she pleaded, attempting to make eye contact with me.

I couldn’t bring myself to ook back, however. I couldn’t tell her, I could tell no one. I was afraid of Xcom for a past I could not hope to rectify. I was scared to ruin the life of this innocent and confused being, much more than any repercussions for me.

“Xcom might not be a good idea, or at least not one without danger,” I said, my tone sounding fake, unconvinced.

“Why?” Even if she didn’t buy it, she went along with it.

“We don’t know what they have in store for aliens. Sure, they announced a standstill, but they are an anti-alien agency even before the invasion. Who’s to say it isn’t in their plan to just round all of you up?” I suggested and met her view. But my eyes barely allowed me to stay locked with her.

“And what else do you think we could do?” Nothing about her features made sense, I could discern nothing from her, despite my best attempts.

“We just have to be careful. And I’m worried about what happens if we aren’t,” finally, a little conviction in my voice, though it came from disguising the truth for a lie.

‘A lie. Again, you are lying.’

“Alright Luis, we can wait,” she settled and I almost couldn’t believe that she actually seemed to trust me.

Then it stung again. She had already told me that she had trouble dissecting human expressions, she could probably not tell the more obscure signs of lies and deception. And me? I used that, I abused the desperate trust she put on me. She had no others and this is what I do to her? I had lied so many times, it even used to be part of my job, but I never felt bad for it-up until now that was.

I had lied to protect my past, to manipulate informants, to intimidate prisoners, and to calm hostages. I had lied to equal amounts of good people and those not deserving of the truth, my entire life was nothing but an intricate net of lies for most that knew me today. Then why did I feel wrong doing it to Isra? Why was she the exception? Her alien nature, making me trust her more than humans because I didn’t know how she acted? Unfamiliarity, innocents, the uncomfortably close parallels to my own past, did I sympathize with her?

And despite all this, despite my own disgust at my actions, the painful guilt I felt, I stuck with it. You remember this old thing, hindsight...Yeah, here we are again.

“Let’s eat,” Isra announced.

I sighed and put the picks back down. At that moment, I realized that the serpent had been right. Instead of the long-ended pick, I had picked a shorter triangle-tipped one. Indeed, I had just been using the wrong fucking pick. My shoulders dropped and I, before even realizing what I was doing, smacked myself on my forehead while cursing sharply. It rung, it blurred my focus for a second, but I deserved it.

“Luis, stop!” The viper suddenly lunged and reached for my hand, as I prepared to strike again.

She locked around my wrist and, despite her relatively thin arms, she was stronger than me. I looked back to her, my face twisting from offended to horrified, and eventually bursting with shameful disgust at myself. Great, now I had done something as stupid as this directly in front of her. Pain had helped me focus, it drew that terrible feeling from my head whenever it emerged, but doing something like this had just sort of happened. A reactionary process, never something I consciously saw as what it was-self punishment.

Isra still held my arm, her face came closer and she scrutinized me with her eyes. I stared into the void and found myself staring back. But also her. I saw her, truly. Her eyes flicked between points on my face, her hood was pulled tightly, her eyelids twitched. She was truly, honestly worried for me. Strange, it had been such a long time I had seen anyone, any human, look at me this way. And now, it was an alien that looked to me like this.

“I…” My mouth opened to respond, but I couldn't formulate speech. My mind raced but settled on a million thoughts at once. My chest expanded rapidly, while no air reached my lungs.

“Why are you doing this? The-the thing with your palm,” she turned my hand around in her scaled grasp and I was forced to confront the crusty skin. “And now this, what do you think you are doing?”

My arm tensed, I wanted to rip away, scream at her, run; anything but just sit there. And yet, I couldn’t. Her eyes forced me to stay, the smooth scales on my arm felt just as strangely nice as when we had shaken hands. Her head was head level and she slowly unfurled from my arm.

“I get that you don’t want to talk to me, and I know you can tell me lies that I won’t catch, so I am just asking. Please tell me what is actually happening, don’t make me beg you for a shred of honesty. I...might not be able to help, but at least let me try.” She sounded emotional, uncertain, but filled with...something.

I took a moment out of the infinity that this second lasted, trying to get past that metaphysical wall, that screaming voice in my head that told me to seal shut, to just walk away again. It had kept me alive, it had spared me so much horror, and here I was, debating if I should let Isra, let this alien serpent, into a part of my mind no one had seen before.

“I lied to you.”

The phrase seemed to come from another person as if I was standing beside myself. And yet, it was truer than any sentence I had ever spoken. A part of me fell away, like a pillar, holding a building standing, crashing down. It whirled up dust and debris, threatened to encompass the whole world, cloud anything in its wake. Nothing would be left standing, only judgment would remain.

Or at least I thought so.

“I forgive you.” Isra’s voice, as if far away, rang out. “Just tell the truth now and it will be alright.”

It will be alright.

Why? Why did she not lash out, why wasn’t she angry, why didn’t she hate me? I couldn’t wrap my head around it, that this alien showed me leniency, forgiveness, kindness. I couldn’t even remember the last time a human did so.

“I...don’t know if I can talk about it all,” I said, my view drifted to the ground.

“That is fine, you can have your secrets. But I need to know what is going on with Xcom and you,” Isra assured, keeping her...gentle tone.

“Alright. I will tell you,” I looked back up and nodded slowly.

A warm smile crept over her thin lips. “Then let’s go inside first, you’re shivering,” she said and rose up from the kneeling height we were in.

She held her hand out, offering me assistance in standing. My initial reaction would have been to stand on my own, especially if someone offered me help. But my knees felt weak, body heavy, I didn’t feel like I could stand on my own. So I reached out. I grabbed the scaled hand, the white palm, clawed fingers, and an odd number of digits. But, just like previously, it felt nice. Slick, tiny layers of smooth scales, and strong, she lifted me onto my feet.

I stood unsteady, but she held me tight for a second or two. I luckily resisted the urge, the sudden compulsion I had felt previously, to run my finger in the opposite direction of her scales. Eventually, she let go and we walked to the cabin.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

She placed the bowls on the table. I pulled out a chair and sat down, arms on the table. She coiled herself at the opposite table and also leaned onto the space between us.

“I will ask you a question and I want to truth, not half the story, not what I would like to hear, just the truth. What were you before the war?” Isra’s voice was calm, collected, but not threatening. Demanding, but doing so from a justified standpoint, yet, a little compassion seeped into the question. This didn’t feel like the interrogation-like conversation I had had with Emir.

“I was a soldier for the government, that was true. But after a few years in the army, I garnered someone’s attention, someone with a lot of influences and even more resources. It was indeed a promotion, I was lifted into a group, into a world which I would never have suspected to exist. We were not mercenaries, at least not by name, we were operators. Sometimes we worked for the government of various continents, other times, we were hired by people in high places. My death was declared in 2009, after that, I lived in the unobserved places.”

It felt strange, returning to those numerous and oftentimes painful memories. Back then, I had convinced myself I needed no one in my life, that I only existed to work. But, thanks to my oldest companion, regret and hindsight had revealed the self-destructiveness of that livestyle.

Isra listened intently, waited for me to finish, then followed up.

“What did you do back then that would cause problems with Xcom today?” I had to give it to her, she was asking the right questions.

“Smuggling, escorting VIPs, freeing and taking hostages, clearing buildings under bomb-threat, assasinations...and extermination,” the word fell heavily from my lips, as memories pushed against the gates of my mind, which I had put in place a long time ago.

“Extermination,” she repeated and leaned her head at an angle.

I knew she wanted an explanation, and she deserved it, as it was quite the word with many implications. But it hurt, nothing more. It just hurt to think about, to admit that it had happened, to remember the mission briefing, the weight of my gun, the screams, the blood…

“Luis?” Again, her voice sliced through the darkening fog of my thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” I shook my head and wiped my sleeve against my face. “Extermination...we were hired in less developed countries, where a militia or group of terrorists, had taken over a complex of buildings or an important part of the country. We were deployed and told to eliminate on sight, everyone was considered hostile. If they weren’t armed...they were considered a liability, one we could not risk striking alarm. We started in the night and when the moring came around, we were the only ones alive to see the sun.”

“How long did you do this?” She asked after a few painfully silent seconds. She was taking my words directly, knowing that it was finally the truth.

“Six and a half years. I made it to the rank of secondary leader and point-man after two,” I responded after doing the mental math. I had lost track of time, but oriented myself on certain events, dates which had burned themselves forever into my psyche.

“Who was your...promoter?” She searched for the right word, I knew what she meant.

“I never met them personally, only referred to as commander, the orders came either by proxy or digitally. They went silent around two months before the invasion,” I said.

“And during the invasion, what did you do?” She was getting a timeline, something to follow, and then be able to ask about details later. Although I believed that she was on the lower side of understanding complex human customs or mannerisms, she was clearly educated on how to get the most out of questions.

“We were mostly left to our own devices, the squad leader of our sub-squad made our contracts for a while before. When the first contact in Washington happened, we were soon tasked with assisting military evacuation. But then it got bad. Instead of passive helper missions, we ran extractions, eliminations, intel hunting, all while our numbers dropped faster than we could count. Most became deserters, others just MIA, but only the ones who had been in it for almost as long as I stuck around till the end.”

I had to take a break, the next moments weren’t unclear or hazy like many other parts, as they replayed in my mind endlessly. But just that had made me pause. Having been alone with these choices, with these memories, it felt completely alien to tell them. And telling them to Isra, who, despite all her intelligence and emotion, was not even a human.

But why was that strange? How much did I truly care about her not being from earth? I had opened up to her more than I had to a human in the past thirteen years. I felt wrong for doing wrong, for being unnecessarily rude, unlike how I felt towards humans. And she was kind. More kind than I felt deserving of. I owed her the truth, no matter what it would end in.

“A sky-drop into a city somewhere in Idaho, it was overcome with the lost-not that we knew what they really were. It was a job by a company, something to do with bioengineering research, extracting a stuck VIP. It went to shit almost immediately and I was flung out of a helicopter. I landed in the forest and ran, ran until I could no more. I later found out that earth surrendered only a few days after I had left.”

“What happened to your team?” I had expected something along those lines, still, I dreaded answering.

“Dead. All of them died leading up to that day and the rest was torn to shreds. I survived because I didn’t look back,” I choked on the words, but forced them from my throat.

Isra, who had maintained eye contact throughout, shifted slightly to the side. The strangely similar circumstances of our experience had obviously not been lost on her. I stared into the black slits of her eyes-like a deep void surrounded by the ocean-and found...compassion.

“I’m sorry, Luis,” she said quietly, nothing but genuineness in her voice.

I struggled to process this, I simply didn’t know what to feel. I would rather have her be angry, yell at me for not telling the truth the first time, anything but just a silent apology for something she wasn’t involved in.

So, instead of responding or following up, I remained quiet. Silence filled the cabin, only interrupted by slow breathing and rubbing of the viper’s scales against the floorboards.

“So if Xcom comes and has records of you doing these things, you think they will not take kindly to it?” She summarised.

“Exactly. They’ve expanded far larger than I would have thought possible, they might as well be the only functioning form of government. With the technology they have, looking into my past won’t be hard. So, even if it is just that I am reported dead, they will know that something is wrong with my story, enough to investigate,” I explained and she seemed to follow.

“And you’ve done things that makes you dangerous to them. Even if you were helping an alien?” She questioned.

“It is...highly unlikely,” I mused, though perhaps I wouldn’t be executed right away. A little funny, she was using me as a shield for the resistance and I could potentially be allowed to explain myself to Xcom thanks to her.

“What else do you think we could do without getting them involved?” She asked.

“If we don’t, we are at that point again as before. We’ll get hunted down, then overrun. There is not much we honestly can do,” I shrugged.

“Is that why you wanted me to leave, because you believe there is no way out?” Isra asked.

“I would have had the option of calling them if it was just me that would be affected, yes,” I paused. “But now that...you know what I am, will you leave?”

“No,” she responded quickly and resolutely.

A smile forced itself onto my lips, though I wouldn’t have minded if this all had convinced her to flee.

“Then I want to know why,” I retorted.

“Because you are no longer that man, I believe. I can tell it is tearing away at you, that you regret what you did. I think you have changed, or are at least very capable of doing so. I want to help you with this, I don’t want you to die for me, especially if I can prevent it. We can prepare, we can endure, we can survive, but only together.”

“B-but I…” I spoke before thinking, my thoughts had immediately gravitated toward denying her, to get her to take it back, I wasn’t deserving of this.

“Luis, I already forgave you. I think you are the one who hasn’t done so yet,” her tone was somber.

“I am satisfied with what you have told me, I need to think on it for a little. Thank you for being honest with me,” Isra followed up. “We should eat,” she suggested.

I nodded and pierced the, now slightly hardened, tortellini inside my bowl. Isra picked them out with her claws and chewed in that strange manner. We shot each other small glances, but didn’t talk about more than if she liked the taste, then she asked about the other foods I had in my bad. Most were dried packages of fruit, other bread, jerky, and cans of, I don’t even know what kind, pasta.

After a while inside the cabin, golden sun rays shined through the window and the air coming through the slits between the wood grew warmer. Isra decided to take the heat early and sprawled herself out on top of the rocks. I took it as her version of getting some quiet to think and I welcomed the relaxation. I went back to the lock and picked out the correct head this time.

I felt...light. I thought I would immediately regret telling her about my past, perhaps in anticipation of judgment, but instead, I felt relieved. The safety pin was easily lifted and I pushed the tension wrench deeper, then I inserted the triangle pick. I shuffled around at the first pin, when I didn’t find the correct height, I moved onto the next one, which locked into place rather quickly. The third and fourth came closely after, I moved back to the first and it finally clicked.

I made microscopic movements on the last pin and listened closely until the spring in the back finally locked. The tension wrench released and the entire mechanism pulled open. I couldn’t help but smile at my work, as I pulled the lock off of the door.

“Isra, it’s done!” I announced over the clearing and watched, as the serpent rose from the rocky surface.

She quickly slithered over and inspected the lock. I pushed the door open and let the light illuminate the inside. The motorized boat, about the length of Isra’s body, stood on the portable carrier. The walls were adorned with fishing lines and seafaring equipment, and there it was, a small radio stood atop the boat’s console.

“Would that boat even hold me?” Isra voiced, as we both entered

“How much do you weigh?” I asked.

“Somewhere around three hundred kilos, but my gear is included in that,” she explained.

“Yeah, it won’t capsize, as long as you don’t move around too much,” I responded.

“You said the river ends in a waterfall, how do salmon even end up here, then? I thought those fish moved upstream from the ocean,” Isra asked as she raised herself overtop the boat using her tail.

“The waterfall is where the biggest part of the river ends, but there is a smaller side-stream that leads to the ocean. The boat is for taking people to the lake before that,” I explained, watching the massive snake-half supported her upper body as if gravity wasn’t a factor.

“And you still don’t believe they will fall for it if we just send the boat alone, correct?” She sunk slightly and inquired.

“Even if it doesn’t crash, they’ll know it’s a decoy before we would gain enough of a lead. Depending on when they start searching, I estimate two, maybe three, days at most,” I confirmed.

Granted, perhaps a bad estimation, maybe I wasn’t considering all variables of the situation; but it seemed logical at the time.

“Then what if we just take the boat ourselves, you mentioned that that’s where the territory ends, what is beyond it?” Isra asked.

It was obvious she had continued to think about our conversation, more than me even. She was still convinced she could think both of us out. She was determined, determined to live…

‘When did I lose that?’

Not a reprimanding and slightly concerned call of my name, but instead, a slight touch on my ankle with her tail. I was broken out of my cycle of thoughts by a slight brush via the winding appendage. I flicked down, saw her tail, then looked back up. She smiled warmly, a smile which had started to grow on me; just slightly too wide, with thin lips and a jawline that could dislodge.

I took a sigh in and responded. “It’s essentially a neutral zone between multiple camps. One in the east disbanded a few years ago and no one’s come to fill that place.”

“Would they pursue us in that area? If it is not owned by them and they attacked us, would the people there drive them out?” She theorized.

“I suppose that would depend on if they pull the fact-Xcom-act again and the people there buy it; or if they also have a grudge against your kind.,” I responded.

“And beyond that? Where does the forest end?” She continued.

“How far are you planning to travel? They have no true reason to leave us be, since they think it means we will send Xcom on their heel,” I retorted.

“As far as it takes. I am not willing to let these...these monsters ruin this,” she gestured broadly.

“ This , what do you mean by that?” I cocked an eyebrow.

“Just, this,” she motioned to the world around her. “The ability to think, to feel...I love it. I cannot just let it be taken. Do you not feel the same?” She turned the question to me.

I didn’t respond, it was a question I had asked myself just a few moments ago. “I don’t know,” I responded with the truth.

Isra cocked a scaled brow, her other features scrounged into a curious expression.

“I need to think about a few things before I can give you a true answer,” I interrupted before she could follow up.

She resigned, simply accepting this as a response; and again, I was left a little put off that she was lenient with me in this way.

“In any case, I am suggesting that we take the boat as soon as possible. We travel downstream and go from there. If the forest is only half as dense as it is here, their hovercraft will not help in the search for us. How long would the journey down the river take?” She brought the subject back, I could tell she was not going to let up any time soon. Perhaps I had no choice but to go with it.

“A day and a half maybe, but we would have to sleep while letting it drift,” I proposed.

“Then let us go!” She announced enthusiastically.

I stared at her. “And what happens when we reach land? With my injuries, it will half our travel speed at least. Going around the waterfall will cost us, while they can just go around,” I argued.

She matched my intense attitude. “Why don’t you want to try? Staying here will do nothing but let us be prey, stationary and vulnerable. The least we can do is make them work for it, go as far as we can, use everything we have, as long as we just do something!”

I thought about her words for a few seconds, observing that her hood had flared and her tail pulled into a tight S-curve, like a snake ready to strike; was she trying to intimidate me, or was this just her way of showing emotional distress? Either way, I was beginning to be convinced and drawn in by the viper’s adamancy.

I bit the bottom of my lip, scratched the beard-stubble of my chin, then nodded slowly, as my head went through possible scenarios.

“We could make fallback positions; ones where we let them attack us in a spot we pretend to defend. We pick off as many as we can, then give up ground and retreat into a further position. They advance into new ground and hopefully can’t adapt in time. The only real danger to this is if we get surrounded.” I looked past her luminescent eyes and remembered a distant plan I had created before.

She listened, her expression shifting to an invested look. “So you agree that we should act, that it is possible?”

“I think I overreacted, so, yes” I finalized.

She smiled again and I felt my cheeks tugging simultaneously; I liked seeing that smile, I settled.

“Can you commander this thing?” She motioned to the vehicle.

“Normally, I just sat in the back, but I can figure it out,” I shrugged.

“Then let’s pack and go,” she lowered herself to a normal level and slithered to the cabin.

I remained still. I watched after her until she rounded the corner, but just stood there. ‘Am I going with this? Am I really prepared for what comes after? Am I really willing to follow this serpent?’

I couldn’t find an answer that felt appropriate. Every singular end I came to was quickly discarded, every defined choice was filled with uncertainty. But, in the end, I knew one thing: I was no longer willing to just leave her.

We rounded up my equipment quickly, as there was now a little bit more space. We also grabbed the blankets, the cooker and its tank, as well as the small butcher’s knife in the drawer. Isra had apparently already inspected the entire interior, as she quickly pointed out which cupboards had things within.

She simply took up her armor and placed it within the boat. I handed her the rucksack and she effortlessly lifted her entire body, along with the backpack, over the boat from the ground up. The pullable station of wheels and reused metal frames rolled perfectly down the decline with only a slight pool. It landed with a splash and we quickly made our way down the pier after relocking the door.

Isra held the boat close and I climbed in. She flung her tail over the rail. The entire construct used to have a roof, we had removed it, however. The backseats had limited space on the deck, so we had also ripped them out and replaced them with wooden benches along the sides. The steering console lay exposed around a foundation of black painted metal. The sides were also painted in camouflage patterns.

The weight was not that much of a factor, though Isra and her armor definitely pulled the boat under a little. To start, she simply pushed us off the pier and we flowed downstream. The long discolored and defaced buttons looked almost identical, but it wasn’t difficult figuring out which one was the motor.

The old motor hauled and sputtered, but eventually came to a clattering beat. We put it on high intensity, as we didn’t really care about fuel consumption. They were likely to come after us quickly, but that was now within the plausible future.

Isra let her tail hang over the side, slowly trailing behind the boat. Her upper body sprawled out over the deck, hood completely propped up, and eyes closed. She was basking again. Her tongue slithered out slower than usual and her chest rose and fell with deep breaths. Her scales always looked somewhat wet, though it was only because they were reflective.

“And you rode on this for fun?” Isra asked absentmindedly.

“Five years ago was the last time I did that, but yeah. Fishing trips were...entertaining because they were different. A break in the rot I found myself in after getting to the camp," I responded, also simply looking out over the shoreline.

Midday sun turned darker shades, as it traveled over the sky above us. Isra had turned onto her back and stared up, her eyes tracking the occasional bird and strangely shaped cloud.

"I'll leave the boat to just drift throughout the night, try to get some sleep while the motor is out," I said and let the engine run itself out.

She agreed and pulled her body as closely as possible into the back of the boat, trying to give me as much space as she could. I laid against the side and took out one of the blankets, then turned toward the sky, as warm orange turned into pale blue.

The moonlight reflected off of the smoothing surface of the water. The stars in the increasingly clearing sky showed on the blackening river as tiny specks. The lessening moon, which displayed itself as a sickle, illuminated the tress only enough to make out shapes and outlines, painting a distant landscape of towering peaks and sharp contours.

Slowly, the gentle back and forth of the waves carried me to sleep, though it also carried an uncanny resemblance to another one of my memories. Sounds of water were replaced with the noises of working machinery, the dark of the night took the form of an overhead lamp, and my body lost its sense of direction for a moment.

"Key, get the fuck up," the rough voice from a man, far too many cigarettes made his throat coarse.

I blinked, rapidly dispersing the tiredness, though it wasn't really there. My eyes adjusted to the dark of a small room, a singular lightbulb hung from the ceiling, metal walls, and two bunk beds. Both of us were outfits fitted for sailors, the white and blue hats laid on a small nightstand.

"Already, are we even far enough out yet?" I asked as I stood up.

The waves impacted the ship we were on, forcing me to hang onto the bed frame for support.

"Yes, we are. Now get yourself strapped in, we're starting," the blond-haired man said.

He lifted his mattress and produced a square of black metal. It resembled a suitcase, but I knew better. He pressed a release button and pulled at an edge. Immediately, three separate points unfolded and took the strange shape of his FMG. A small barrel, on which he promptly attached a suppressor.

My body moved on its own, though I felt like I was in control. I reached beneath my own mattress and found a briefcase, containing the separated parts of a modified AR33. I hurried to get my own suppressor on, as Jackal already lined up at the door.

"Ready?" He asked though he expected no answer.

I nodded regardless, ignoring the nerves I had felt. One of my first missions on enemy territory, and it was already more exhilarating than anything I had experienced previously. A pirate ship, that smuggled drugs, money, weapons, and of course captive humans across the Atlantic.

We burst out, he took left, I took left, the hallway was clear. We moved swiftly, our target was the bridge, our objective to ruin the crew's hope of reinforcements and wreck the engine.

A staircase was our direct access and we quietly made our way up the metal steps. I felt my heartbeat, beard my breath, god I was an amateur when I started.

We arrived at the heavy door leading to the bridge, a blue, metal valve served as its handle. Jackal leaned against the side of the door and motioned for me to get ready via a raised hand.

He grabbed ahold of the turnable valve and twisted it around in a swift and powerful motion. It creaked and clattered, but we had already entered.

Seven men were visible, two had rifles in their hands, the others were unarmed. It wasn't the first time I had shot unarmed humans, yet, I still hesitated for a second before leveling my aim with one of the men. Of course, we shot the armed personnel first, the suppressed sounds of bullets let out dull pops, as blood splattered against the interior.

One took a dive, another put his hands up, I shot two before they could act and Jackal quickly disposed of the remaining men. It had taken a split second to turn this room into an array of twitching, bloodied bodies.

All except one, the man who had put his hands up, the captain. An older man with an unkempt beard, stared at the floor to his dead or dying companions, before turning back to me. Utter terror in his eyes, his entire focus was on me and the gun I was pointing at him.

"Key, we don't take hostages," Jackal informed me and I felt his scrutinizing look on me.

"He surrendered, he can help disable the ship," I tried to bargain

"Fucking rookie, never should've taken you," the man murmured beneath his breath and, before I could protest, he raised his rifle and let out a silenced burst at the defenseless man.

I took a sharp, desperate, and cold inhale in. My eyes ripped open and my muscles tensed, the gunshot still rang in my ears, as the real world settled on me again. I looked around in the low light of the moon, though it had shifted to a sideways illumination. It was still dark outside and I knew it would take at least a few more hours until the sun came up. The boat lazily drifted along the flow, providing a soothing back and forth.

Then I spotted Isra's glowing blue eyes in the dark. Her head rested at an angle and she observed me quietly, her lower torso completely enwrapped within her own coils.

"Can't sleep?" I asked.

"I think you can't, either," she retorted.

I huffed in response and began to stretch out my limbs. They felt stiff and stricken with cold, my foot had fallen asleep.

"You talk in your sleep," Isra commented. "You dream too, right?"

"Yeah, mine are just bad more often than pleasant," I replied.

"What do you dream about?" The viper asked.

"Mostly memories, moments I would rather forget, choices I can't go back on," I said, my eyes trailing upward before landing on Isra once more. "What about you, you said dreaming was new to you, what is it you dream about?" I asked curiously.

She took a second, her chin tilted upward as she thought. "I dream of a life I can't remember anymore, of a planet I know is my home. But it just feels different, like I'm looking back onto the memories of another like they're not mine. I used to be someone before Advent took me away and I just can't remember who I was. The only glimpses I get are in the form of obscure visions, smells, feelings, visuals, but it's just...not enough."

"It's not uncommon to lack memories from early childhood, at least for humans. But I'm sure you'll start remembering more of who you were if you just give it time. From what I understand, your mind just had a complete reset, it would be more strange if everything returned to you at once," I tried to reassure her.

She locked eyes with me again, her view betraying uncertainty and worry. "Thank you for saying that."

"Don't mention it," I dismissed.

"Why shouldn't I, I feel grateful for the support you are giving me, especially since I know it isn't necessary. You have a lot of other things on your mind, I'm sure," she said.

"True," I shrugged, "I just don't think you've had someone tell you not to worry before."

She stayed silent, only her eyes spoke back to me. I saw some of the unease, a little bit of her distress, leave her, as it was replaced with warmth. And I felt better alongside her, a small smile plastering itself over my sleepy features.

"I don't get it," she finally said.

"Get what?" I followed the obvious bait for a follow-up.

"You, I don't get you," the serpent burst out. "You helped because you wanted to sate your own curiosity, but that would have not carried you this far. You were so adamant to leave me, that I thought I had done something horribly wrong. But now, you are going along with my proposition and seem motivated to survive with me. I know humans change their minds quickly, but I can't help but feel there is more to this."

There was more to it, she was right. The only problem, I didn't know what back then. It's clearer now, but on that night, I had no answer for her, nor myself.

"I...don't know, I'm sorry but that's the only response I have," I admitted, keeping direct eye contact.

Silence befell us, only the splashing of water resounded throughout the otherwise quiet night, only an owl's shriek pierced the atmosphere. Since neither of us could go back to sleep, I reactivated the motor and made some extra pace. Any time that we spent on the water was time we had to spare when we had to travel on land. Isra suggested she would carry the backpack, taking a little bit of strain from my still bruised and beaten body.

As the sun came up, I leaned against the main console and simply observed as the horizon lit ablaze. Surely, there was no way I would have been able to foresee any of this; on the run from former compatriots, traveling with an alien invader, prepared to live.