Anaz-Voohri (2 page)

Once inside the ship, Kavak deposited the neutralized Celene on a long couch next to little Ashley, who lay motionless. When Kavak pushed a dial on her handheld instrument, both girls closed their eyes. She’d induced deep sleep.

This completed Kavak’s collection. She returned to the piloting seat.
A good harvest, according to the commander in charge of gathering the other girls.
Linking her mind to the ship’s controls, she passed her hand across the console and welcomed the familiar vibration as the ship soared toward the stratosphere.

Once in high orbit, Kavak rendezvoused with the two other collecting ships. Together they flew toward the huge science vessel hidden from Earth on the dark side of the moon. After docking, Kavak picked up both girls, slung one over each shoulder, then hovered through hatches and corridors into the nursery prepared for them on the science vessel.

The scientist in charge had insisted that they decorate the dome with painted-desert colors, to make their charges feel more at home. And what could be more auspicious than depictions of Kokopelli, the flute player, a motif already familiar to many humans?

“Where are the other girls?" Kavak asked a medical attendant.

The female medic in a white gown saluted. “They are docking now, Exalted Leader. I’ll help bring them in."

The medic rushed out of the nursery. Within minutes, each of the twelve beds had an occupant. The human girls ranged from two to nine in age. At the head of each bed, engraved nameplates labeled the occupants.

Collecting charges made Kavak thirsty. She willed a cabinet door to open and linked her brain to the dispenser inside. “Martini, make that three,” she uttered, “after all, it’s a celebration." She could hardly wait for the heavenly drink.

The machine poured a clear liquid into three conical glasses and dropped two olives in each of them. The ritual warmed Kavak in anticipation. She took one glass, sipped the drink,
then
sighed. “Delicious."

A replica of the earthly martini to be sure, but still quite good, it made her throat tingle. Like most Anaz-voohri, Kavak had a weakness for liquor, the only worthwhile products humans had ever engineered. When she controlled Earth, she would drink only the real thing.

Glass in hand, Kavak glided toward the chief scientist already examining the oldest girl, a tall pale child with long blond hair. The plaque on the bed read Tierney. Kavak nodded toward the girl. “This one looks much older than the others. Will that be a problem?”

“On the contrary, Exalted Leader.
She is exceptionally strong, healthy and willful for a human." The scientist beamed, no doubt flattered by the special attention from his leader. “She will serve us well.”

Kavak only hoped the scientist could deliver. “Are they strong enough to survive the procedure?”

“Difficult to determine at this point, Exalted Leader."
The scientist made a disgusted face. “Humans are such weaklings." He smiled as if to reassure Kavak. “But I will do my very best to implant the new hardware and reprogram their DNA as smoothly as possible.”

“I am counting on you. The future of our people is at stake." Kavak dared to hope. It would take twenty Earth years for this project to mature, but for Kavak and her race, time passed differently. They didn’t age and enjoyed healthy lives that lasted many centuries. The human girls, however, did not, so they had to hurry.

Kavak’s first Commander, who had collected most of the girls for the experiment, entered the room. Kavak willed the tray holding the two extra martinis to levitate toward the Commander, who smiled at the rare gesture and took one glass. Kavak directed the tray toward the surprised scientist, who accepted the drink with excessive gratitude. Kavak didn’t trust scientists, never had. Then the tray levitated back inside the cabinet.

“You did well, Commander." Kavak turned to the scientist. “Make sure your work goes without incident." She raised her glass in the human traditional toast, inviting them to do the same, and declared solemnly, “To the end of humanity.”

“To the end of humanity!” the other two hailed with enthusiasm.

*****

Zack opened his eyes, prompted by the loud purr of Dude, who kneaded his chest and licked his face with a scratchy tongue. Green, round eyes blinked at him, and Dude meowed softly.

Zack tried to get up from Ashley's pink, shaggy carpet and regretted his sudden move. His head pounded like an anvil under a sledge hammer. He shivered despite the morning sun coming in through the open window and the slight motion made his whole body ache. When he glanced at the empty bed with the Barbie doll askew on the blanket, the horror of the night rushed back to him. Ashley!

Zack struggled to his feet and inspected the gaping window. The glass was gone! How could this happen? Why had the freaking alien taken Ashley?

Stumbling to the bathroom, Zack splashed water on his face and grimaced in the mirror. His aqua-blue eyes looked almost gray today. Not a good sign. He finger-raked his rebellious chestnut hair away from his high forehead, then snatched a pair of jeans from the floor. He shook as he slipped them on, and then staggered into the hallway. He had to hold on to the railing to make it down the stairs.

He resisted the temptation to call for Ashley. No one would answer, Ashley was gone... What should he do? His stepfather would kill him when he learned Ashley had been kidnapped while he babysat.

Zack crossed the living-room gingerly, picked up the phone and dialed nine-one-one. Not that the police could help much, but he had to do something, notify the authorities. As the phone rang on the other end, he wondered what he would tell them. That an alien creature had abducted his sister in the middle of the night? Who’d believe it?

 
“Nine-one-one operator, what is the emergency?”

Zack took a deep breath. “My baby sister is missing.”

 
“How old is she?" The friendly female voice sounded genuinely concerned.

 
“She’s seven, her name is Ashley.”

 
“Taken from her bed at night?”

 
“Yeah, how’d you know?”

 
“Another missing girl!” he overheard the operator calling to someone else at the dispatch center. “What’s your address, sir?”

 
“What do you mean? There are others?" Zack’s knees weakened and he dropped to the couch. This was huge. He felt it.

 
“It’s all over the news, sir. Several girls were reported missing from their bed this morning. The reports keep coming.”

Cradling the phone with his shoulder, Zack snatched the remote and turned on CNN.

On the screen, a female reporter in a raincoat stood before a two-story gabled house with harvested fields in the background. “We are speaking with Rich Porter, father of a missing two-year-old, here at the family farm." The reporter sounded almost casual. “Tell us how you first discovered your child had been kidnapped?”

 
“My wife heard some noise in the middle of the night and went up to check on Maya..." The young man tried valiantly to control his facial muscles, but his voice broke. “The bed was empty, the window wide open. Anybody could have come in. As soon as my wife told me, I ran outside. I didn’t see anybody, but there was some kind of humming, like a gigantic bumblebee. Then I saw a one of those things, like a flying saucer. It took off that way." He pointed toward the sky then his face contorted. He buried his head in his hands and sobbed.

The world was going mad.
Alien abductions on CNN?
Had other people witnessed the monster? It seemed unreal.

The camera focused on the reporter’s face. The woman looked embarrassed at the unexpected live testimony. “This man is obviously distraught and there is nothing to confirm his allegations and no reason to believe them. The flying machine was probably a helicopter if anything. The department of Homeland Security has not raised the alert level. However, nine children, all girls, have been kidnapped in the same strange circumstances, a seemingly synchronized operation spanning five states. The authorities are expecting more victims.”

Zack remained in shock.
Nine girls?
With Ashley that was ten, and they expected more?

 
“...the FBI is leading an investigation and considers claims of alien intervention preposterous. They are not ruling out, however, the possibility of a sinister act of terrorism.”

Terrorists?
What Zack had seen was no terrorist. It was a freaking monstrosity from another world who calmly snatched Ashley from her bed. Anger welled in Zack’s chest. He wished he’d had a gun. He would have shot the bastard instead of the other way around.

But the awful thought of his baby sister among such monsters angered him the most. What would they do to her? Dissect her alive, like a frog in a science lab? He didn’t want to think about that. What could these aliens possibly want with human children?

Zack remembered holding Ashley’s hand on her first steps, helping her open her Christmas presents, teaching her to read. They’d played Pokemon videogames on his X-box. He’s sung Britney Spears songs, just to please her, and she’d crack him up every time she tried to rap with him to Eminem. One night, Ashley caught him in his room, making out with a girl while their parents worked on another one of their news assignments, but she never ratted.
A true sister.

Zack dreaded telling his parents, but he had to reach them somehow. Slowly, he picked up the phone again and dialed the Hollywood studio. The production assistant answered. As Zack feared, his mom and stepfather couldn’t be reached at the moment.

 
“Tell them it’s an emergency,” Zack said with all the authority he could muster. “They have to take the first plane home, come back immediately.”

 
“I’ll have them contact you,” was
all the
assistant said.

On the screen, no more reports of alien sightings, but the frightening count kept increasing. By now eleven little girls had disappeared from their bed in the middle of the night in the continental US, and Ashley was one of them.

When the doorbell rang, Zack saw no LAPD cop, but four men in black suits, white shirts and sunglasses. They flashed FBI badges and three of them rudely pushed their way inside the house, taking pictures.

The fourth agent, who seemed to be in charge, introduced himself as Tolek Michalski. He invited Zack to take a seat on the living room couch. He set a small recorder on the coffee table, opened his jacket and eased himself into an armchair. “For the record, state your name, age, occupation.”

 
“My name is Zack Duncan. I’m eighteen, working on a Masters at Berkeley and baby-sitting for my parents during summer break.”

The agent frowned.
“A Masters at your age?”

Zack half-smiled at the man’s surprise. He was used to such reaction.
“Investigative journalism.
Love the stuff.”

The agent shook his head. “Where are your parents?”

 
“On a news assignment in Guatemala.”

 
“Reporters?
Have they been told?”

 
“Not yet.”

 
“Tell me what you know.”

Zack steeled himself for the emotional assault of the difficult memories, but he wasn’t going to wimp out. “Some alien creature took her. I saw it all happen,” he declared boldly, then described the scene to the best of his recollection.

Listening, the agent seemed absorbed in the task of cleaning his sunglasses with a white handkerchief. “Was the perpetrator male or female?”

 
“I couldn’t tell for sure. It was freaking tall with a shimmering cape and floating in a beam of light.”

The agent didn’t flinch. “Could you describe him or her?”

Zack tried to remember all the details. “Tall, no hair, pale, almost translucent skin, some kind of electronics showing through the skull with blinking lights inside. One hand had only four fingers. Very long fingers...”

 
“Any weapon?”

 
“Some kind of zapper.
He did zap me, and I passed out. Boy, it hurt.”

 
“Can you describe that zapper?”

 
“About the size of a cell phone.
It shot like a strike of lightning, but no thunder, just a sizzle... Felt like an electric shock.
Took me out cold.
I woke up this morning on the floor with a mega-headache.”

 
“Anything more?”

 
“Yes." Zack realized he’d registered many details in his mind. “Some kind of vibration throughout the house, and the power was out in the whole neighborhood.”

 
“What else?”

 
“That’s all I can remember.”

Michalski turned off the recorder and slipped it into the pocket of his black jacket. “You are very shaken by the event. Obviously what you think you saw never happened." He flashed a fake smile. “You watch too much television. You need some rest and maybe some medications for your overactive mind.”