Tameka was not sixteen anymore and waiting on Xelan to see it would be the death of her. Or him. Eyes forward, she refused to look at him. She didn’t like the Icarus this way: brooding and gloomy. She wanted to beat the ever-living shit out of the people in this—his—van. But no. Kyle and John just wanted to bitch. Even Sagan was keeping Xelan at arm’s length. Andrew was the only one who seemed to trust him.
Behind Tameka, Sagan’s lips tightened into a thin line. Her face and shoulders were rigid with tension. She was handling this like a champ. The best second-in-command ever. But she wasn’t fooling Tameka. Sagan’s best chance at a happily ever after laid bleeding in her arms. Tameka never understood why she and Rayne broke up. Not long after Xelan came along bearing catastrophic tidings, they’d ended their relationship. The cutest couple to grace Fair High School had ceased to exist. One day they were making out at the skating rink—too adorable for normal society. Then the next thing everyone knew, Sagan was dressing like a lazy preppy chick and dating the biggest dick in school. Afterward, Rayne and Sagan made moon eyes at each other across the cafeteria while everyone pretended not to notice.
Tameka shook her head before asking Sagan, “How are you holding up?”
“We’re gonna make it,” she said in a small voice.
“Damn right we are,” Tameka announced loud enough for the entire van to hear. “Who’s ready for some tunes?”
She turned on the radio, and static played over the station. She mumbled to herself as she checked the passenger door panel and console between the front seats for a CD. When nothing turned up, Tameka reached to turn the radio off.
A voice crackled onto the airwaves. The deep resonance and superior tone rose the hair on her arms and prickled gooseflesh all over her body.
“Earthlings, humans, homo sapiens, in a presentation of surprisingly sound wisdom the leaders of your planet surrendered all assets, resources, and possessions to me.”
Kyle shouted, “What the fuck?!”
“Henceforth, you shall know Nox as your King. You serve me in all things without question.” Tameka noticed Xelan’s fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter until his knuckles mottled white. “This obedience extends to my people whom you will come to recognize and know very well. The Icari are your masters, now. You are no longer the dominant species on your planet. There will be no period of adjustment. Starting immediately, we will collect you from your shelters. All of you: men, women, children, and the elderly. Any attempt to resist will result in the total destruction of the surrounding thirty acres. The only hope for your feeble race is to fetch me the woman known as Progeny Alpha One, Code Name: Celindria.”
Sagan exclaimed, “He can’t do that! We’ll have no way to protect Rayne.”
Yet, the voice carried on, “Bring her to me, and we will consider negotiations. Make what peace you will and enjoy the following news reports.”
Silence. At first. Then a din erupted so loud Tameka couldn’t hear herself think. After shutting it down, she pointed out to Sagan, “No one will know it’s Rayne. He’s posturing.”
John fired from the backseat, “Who the fuck is Celindria? I still have no idea.”
Kyle snarled, “Can you please just shut up for one goddamn minute?! You don’t need to know everything.”
Andrew said, “Everyone just calm down.”
Lynn and Pablo remained quiet. Everyone else followed suit, including Tameka.
Andrew’s voice was clear and assertive. It was a decent leadership voice. “There’s already a plan in place for this exact invasion tactic. We’ll discuss it more at the bookstore once Rayne is awake. There’s no sense in repeating ourselves. Can we all take a deep breath until then? I know it’s bad news, but talk amongst yourselves a little more quietly rather than starting fucking fights in a moving vehicle.”
John muttered to Pablo, “Can you believe this shit?”
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“Ignore him,” Andrew said to Kyle, who almost rose to the bait. “Let’s talk about what happened to the world.”
Andrew, Kyle, and Lynn discussed the apocalypse. Sagan stared quietly at Rayne. Pablo sent Tameka a pitiful wave from the backseat, where he tried to derail John’s newfound self-destructive streak.
Tameka turned back to Xelan. As quietly as she could manage, she promised, “They’ll trust you again, you know?”
He startled and spared a quick glance at her from the road. He’d almost washed the surprise from his face before she caught it, and a deep sorrow overcame her. Miserable. This entire situation had hurt him.
The world outside the passenger window was fairly normal, all things considered. More cars than usual traveled between the 430 Interstate overpass and Col Glenn road. She expected to see people looting the big Toyota car lot or huddling around the Clear Channel Metroplex for mass shelter. It was early hours still.
Xelan muttered, “Thank you,” beside Tameka so softly that she almost missed it.
The sound of his deep voice so near to cracking brought tears brimming to her freshly mascaraed eyes. Tameka tilted her head back and breathed deeply, trying to dry them. Every instinct in her screamed to touch Xelan. A friendly hand on the shoulder, a forward hand on the thigh, or hell, a kiss on the cheek for teaching them the amazing ass-kicking skills which had kept them alive.
Screw it!
Tameka reached a hand out to him then screamed, “Look out!”
As Xelan slowed down for bumper to bumper traffic, someone careened their car out of a convenience store and into the van. There was a loud crunch. The entire group lurched as the van rocked, and Sagan fought to hold Rayne. Relief washed over Tameka as she silently applauded her friends for wearing their seat belts.
Xelan growled, “Moron!” He rolled the window down, allowing the man’s words to reach the rest of them.
“Get out of the fucking van, motherfucker! I’m not playing with you! Get out of the van or I’ll shoot you and everyone in it.” An emaciated man with sallow skin in a tank top and baggy jeans shouted at Xelan, holding a gun to his face. Even Tameka saw from the passenger seat that the gun was a plastic toy. He shouted the same rant again.
Andrew shouted from his open window, “Fuck off, crackhead!”
The desperate man pointed the gun right in the driver’s face. Unfortunately for him, this was not the right day to test Xelan. He reached out the window and smashed the guy’s face in. The crackhead crumpled into a puddle. Xelan, satisfied, rumbled the van forward to keep their position in the traffic jam.
“Did you kill him?” Sagan asked, instantly pissing Tameka off.
Incredulous, she asked, “What kind of question is that?”
Sagan didn’t squirm under Tameka’s irritated scrutiny. The blond girl’s stony response aggravated her all the more.
Tameka said, “He pointed a gun at Xelan’s face.”
Kyle joined in, “It wasn’t even real!”
Tameka tried again. “He was trying to steal our wheels!”
Xelan cut through the chaos and answered Sagan with their eyes locked in the rear-view mirror. “He’ll wake up in about two hours. Hopefully, fewer people will be on the road by then for him to terrorize.” His eyes went front again.
The banter wasn’t over for Tameka. She asked, “See? What more do you want from him?”
“Enough!” Xelan shouted. This time he looked at Tameka. The scolding glance he gave her stung. In a lower voice, he explained, “I appreciate your support, but they have a right to distrust me right now. Neither you nor I should tell them how to feel. I’m asking you, please stop attacking them on my behalf.”
Watching traffic move at a crawl, Tameka folded her arms across her chest. “Fine.” She almost winced at the sullen tone of her own voice.
The van grew painfully silent. It took them ten minutes to pass University Avenue in the traffic. The next big intersection took them onto Fair Park Boulevard. The traffic was thick on the two-lane residential road. Tameka, finally tired of sulking, unfolded her arms. Her entire body uncoiled and relaxed. Alerted to all the aches, bruises, and hefty wounds, she rested her forehead on the glass and sighed. This would be a long apocalypse.
John broke the silence. “I’m hungry.”
Kyle said, “We were supposed to have cheeseburgers for lunch today.”
Sagan joined in, “I’d give anything for one of those weird, rubbery, wall-sticking patties right now.”
Pablo added, “I just want some fries.”
The van rumbled with stomachs growling.
Xelan said, “Tameka, please open the glove compartment.”
The ‘please’ soothed the sting from earlier, and she complied. The glove box contained a box of granola bars, peanut butter crackers, and juice boxes. She couldn’t contain it. She moaned. “Food!”
The van erupted in hoots and hollers. All her able-bodied friends leaned to the edge of their seats, trying to peer into the box.
Kyle asked, “Are there any cream cheese and chives? I love cream cheese and chives.”
That needling urge to cuss him out struck Tameka again. Kyle’s voice had protested the loudest against Xelan’s help, and here he was ready to eat the man’s food clearly reserved for them. And yes, there was cream cheese and chives. She almost gave him cheddar and bacon instead, but, with a roll of her eyes, she tossed him the green packet of crackers. She took a granola bar and a juice box once everyone else had settled.
Tameka asked Xelan, “Do you want anything?”
With his voice thick from emotion, Xelan said, “No, thank you. I’m just happy to help.” He cleared his throat.
The sounds of wrappers, munching, and straw sucking filled the van. An uplifting chorus. As they passed the Exxon at the intersection of Van Buren and Markham streets, Tameka decided everything would work out.