A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

Lien and Emma’s room was small, just enough space for two twin beds, two lockers, and a shared mini-fridge. Overhead, dim tube lights ran along the walls, casting a neon orange glow.

Lien sat cross-legged on her bed, typing something on her tablet. Focused. Or at least trying to look that way. How could she focus?

Lien was the youngest and only girl out of her eight siblings. She came from a very rich and powerful family and was expected to never falter under pressure.

Though her upbringing in the high class world was rough, she was a kind person. Too kind according to her parents.

Her older brothers were extremely protective of her and she didn’t have many friends. The IPD was a way for her to break out of her golden cage, while at the same time giving her a chance to save the world. She figured her parents would have to respect her then.

Now? Everything was up in the air.

Emma knelt down at her locker, rummaging through it. Her movements were slow, deliberate, like she was looking for something specific. Then she stopped.

A small, black box sat at the bottom of the locker.

She stared at it. Then, carefully, she picked it up, pried it open.

Lien glanced up and noticed Emma staring at something. On a regular day, they would be talking as they usually do. But now it was different.

No one knew what the others would do. The look on Emma’s face told Lien that she saw something terrible.

Emma looked back at her.

Lien quickly turned back to her tablet, fingers typing faster than before. Pretending not to notice. If Emma wanted to tell her, she would. She had no reason to pry. Yet…

Emma squinted slightly at Lien, watching her for a beat longer before closing the box and slipping it back inside the locker. Had Lien seen? Is she watching her?

Emma shook such dark thoughts out of her mind. Dr. Martinez was right. They need to calm down and come up with a plan together. For the past six months, they’ve all been friends. She would like to keep it that way. Still, the tension in the air was too thick for her. She needed to loosen up.

Without another word, she moved to the fridge, grabbed a beer, then set it on top without drinking it. She turned for the door.

“We’re supposed to stay in our barracks,” Lien said, not looking up.

Emma smirked. “Well, there’s no bathroom in here.”

Emma left anyway. She felt like if she stayed cooped up, she’d go crazy. She left so fast, that she forgot to lock the locker combination.

The second the door clicked shut, Lien bolted out of bed. She couldn’t help herself. She’d never seen that look on Emma’s face before. She rushed to Emma’s locker, opened it, and pulled out the black box.

Slowly, she flipped it open.

Her face twisted when she saw it.

Fear clamped down on her heart.

Sweat broke on her forehead. Her breathing quickened.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps.

She snapped the box shut, shoved it back inside, and leapt onto her bed. By the time the door opened again, she was typing, her face calm.

Emma walked in, grabbed her unopened beer, then lingered by the door, eyes on Lien.

Lien looked up at her.

“What?” Lien asked.

“Nothing.” said Emma.

After a moment, Emma left again.

Lien put down her tablet and buried her face in her pillow, trying to process what she just saw.

Over in Jack and Akira’s room, Jack sat on his bunk, speaking into his recorder, his voice flat, tired.

“…And just as things were looking up, we went to war.”

Pop. Pop. Catch. Pop. Pop. Catch.

Akira tossed a ball against the wall, catching it over and over like he was doing time in a prison cell. Like Emma, he hated being cooped in.

He had a vision of going back home and fishing with his brother again. Now, he wondered about his future. He had joined because he loved the ocean.

The way he figured it, if he could save the planet, or even stall it’s destruction for any amount of time to keep fishing, he would.

His father was a fisherman, and his father before him. Akira always imagined himself dying as an old sea dog on a boat and his body being put to sea. Not in some war. He wanted to get back home where he knew he belonged.

Jack sighed.

“Do you have to do that?” Jack wined.

“Yes.” said Akira.

Pop. Pop. Catch.

Jack rubbed his temples. He was trying to catalog what was happening. It was all so interesting to him. Not in a “he’s happy about it way”, more like he knew that someone had to record what was happening. He figured it might as well have been him.

That and it doubled as recordings he could send to his girlfriend. It got lonely on the moon, so he enjoyed sending her recordings as if he was telling his life story to her. They talked everyday. He had met her while shopping.

She was working the counter and he would go in everyday and buy something just to see her. Then, out of all things, she asked him out.

They went roller skating and he knew that he wanted to be with her forever. With everything going on, he didn’t know how long forever would be. He wanted to see her in person as soon as possible.

Now they were stuck on this floating rock and his roommate was ruining his flow.

***

Martinez sat at his desk, fingers poised over the laptop keys. He typed a few words, then stopped.

His hands went to his face. He exhaled hard.

Spinning his chair around, he faced the window.

Earth hung in the distance, small and far away. Almost unreachable. Still remarkable.

As a kid he wanted to travel into space and be amongst the stars. He’d done that by living on this base.

This is what it was all about. He set out to save the world. He had just accomplished that.

He grew up poor on the outskirts of Nogales. His mind was what set him apart. His mind and his “can do attitude” allowed him to achieve anything he set his mind to.

He wondered if he could think his way out of this one and back to his grandkids. Even if he could see them smile one more time.

Things were less tense in Victor’s and Tucker’s room.

Victor sat on his bed, quietly reading. The only sound was the occasional rustle of paper.

Tucker lay on his back, fast asleep.

Then he twitched. His fingers curled.

His breathing turned sharp, uneven.

His face twisted, pained.

Victor lowered his book.

Watched him.

Tucker jerked again, his chest rising and falling too fast.

Victor didn’t say a word. His younger brother had nightmares of when their parents died. He would wake his younger brother up and make him some food to calm him down. Then, he would rock his brother back to sleep.

Not really something he could do for another 16 year old.

He just stared as Tucker had a nightmare.

Or was it a memory?

In reality it was both. Tucker was being forced to remember by his own mind. He could see it.

The trees loomed, ancient and towering. Their thick trunks swallowed the light, casting deep shadows that stretched and moved across the forest floor.

The wind barely stirred. Everything was too still as the men moved to infiltrate the farm.

The men moved in pairs, swift and silent, weaving through the towering stalks of corn. Their efficiency was practiced, like a machine operating without flaw.

Mike raised his hand. The signal.

Two teams split off—one to the barn, another to the silo.

12 year old Tucker stayed close to his father, heart pounding in his chest.

Mike turned to him, eyes sharp. He motioned toward the house. Tucker’s lead.

Tucker swallowed. Nodded.

“Don’t worry,” said Mike. “I got your back.”

Tucker took a breath and stepped forward.

They went through the back.

The back door lock clicked open as they snuck in.

Tucker eased the door open an inch at a time, weapon raised. He slipped inside, his boots silent against the hardwood floor.

The kitchen was warm, lived-in. Smelled like cinnamon and something slow-cooked. Family photos lined the walls.

He lowered his gun, hesitating.

One frame caught his eye. A boy, maybe eight. A girl, five. Smiling. Happy.

Mike’s voice came from behind. “Alright, find the basement.”

“Gotcha.” Tucker said.

Tucker set the photo down carefully.

However, there was a problem...

The doors were all wrong.

Tucker moved quickly, trying each handle, his pulse climbing.

Then—

CRREEEAAKK!

He quickly wiped around, pointing his weapon. His grip tightened on his gun. Then he slowly dropped it. It was…

A boy. The boy.

Standing by the front door, which was now half open.

Big, wide eyes staring right at him.

"Who are you?" the boy said, trembling.

Tucker’s mouth went dry. His gun lowered, his hands suddenly unsure of what to do. They weren’t supposed to be here!

He was only four years older than this kid and yet he was the one holding the gun.

Footsteps.

Mike appeared behind him. “You find anything?”

Then he saw the kid.

Mike stopped cold.

The door swung open the rest of the way.

The father stepped in, mid-sentence on a phone call.

"Yeah, they canceled church because—"

The fat words died in his throat.

His eyes locked on Mike. Then Tucker. Then the gun.

Everyone froze.

Then—

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Tucker gasped awake to the sound of his alarm.

His shirt was damp with sweat. His breathing was sharp, uneven.

He wiped a hand down his face.

Across the room, Victor was watching him. “Bad dream?”

“No.” he lied. Tucker swallowed, forcing the breath back into his lungs.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Tucker looked down at his wrist. His watch screen blinked with a message. The text was small, unreadable from a distance.

He stared at it for a long moment.

Then he slid out of bed and reached for his shoes.

“Where are you going?” Victor asked sitting up

“To clear my head.” said Tucker. “Why?”

Victor studied him and then sighed. He lied back down. “Whatever.”

Tucker knew he was suspicous of him, but that didn't matter. Not now.