One of Them

I didn't know what to do. I couldn't get up, that was for sure. I turned and tried to flip over onto my stomach so I could maybe crawl up the hill, but that hurt way too much.

My wrist hurt, but that felt more like a sprain than anything else. Then I tried to maybe scoot on my butt down the hill, but that still required too much movement in my legs.

Crawling through the snow didn't seem like a great idea, anyway. My best bet seemed to be to sit tight and wait for the helicopters and tanks.

A day late and a dollar short. We'd already done all the work.

Instead, I leaned back into a lying position and covered my face with my hand. I tried hard to suppress the sobs, but a few escaped while I choked on my tears.

After all of this, I was disabled by a fall. I was going to be done in a by a couple of broken bones.

Alone in the woods, freezing to death.

If I had a whistle, I would have started blowing it. I would only be able to scream for help for so long even if I didn't have broken ribs.

I just had to try to pull myself together. Someone was going to come looking. I just had to last long enough for them top find me.

Then, I suddenly remembered.

Jess' phone!

I sat up straight, sending another jolt of pain up my spine, and fished around for the cell. I had completely forgotten about it, and now I was on a different part of the mountain.

What were the odds that I could find any sort of signal? Slim, but I could try.

There it was, the familiar weight in my back pocket. I grunted and whined in pain as I shifted to pull it out between violent shivers, but it would be worth it when—

The jump and subsequent tumble down the mountainside had almost completely shattered the screen into a spider web of cracks and chips. Now it would probably be near impossible to read the display.

That was okay, though. People had cracked screens all the time. So long as the inner plate was still okay, it should still work.

It had to.

I stared at it a moment, closed my eyes, took as deep a breath as I could, then hit the button to turn it on. I couldn't remember how much battery I'd had left when I'd last stopped using it, but hopefully, it would still have enough.

Small slivers lit up between the cracks, but for the most part, it remained black and broken.

I fell on my back hard enough for my vision to blur at the edges and I scrunched up my face, chest heaving in a strangled cry. For a while I remained like that, staring up at the white, wintry sky.

I tried hard to stop crying, to calm down, but it was proving difficult even if it made everything worse.

It didn't matter. It wasn't going to work, anyway. I don't know why I even bothered to hope that I'd have anything go my way on this forsaken rock. 

At least it wasn't snowing at the moment. Sure, the snow that had fallen through the night was deep and cold, but it would have been worse if I had to sit through some sort of blizzard, waiting to be picked up.

If I never even made it home, though, then I wouldn't have to face the consequences of all this. Of breaking the quarantine and wandering into the woods when we were told not to. I wouldn't have to tell anyone what I had done, what we had done.

What had happened to them. My friends.

A familiar, masked face popped up into my vision and I started violently, racking my body with spasms of pain. I shouted and curled in, trembling and panting.

Wolf chittered an admonishment and kneeled next to me, pulling my shoulder and turning me so I was on my back. I gasped and reached out for my legs with both hands, my fingers shaking.

"Why did you make me jump!" I hissed through clenched teeth. I rounded on him and lashed out with a closed fist, trying to hit any part of him I could reach. "You should have carried me!"

It was easy for him to dodge the blow with a single step and he lifted his hands, palms out, and clicked rapidly in his funny language. I understood it to be some sort of quick apology or explanation, but that didn't help.

I tried again to smack him but only wound up hurting myself more.

I waited until the throbbing stopped and then sat back up, glowering at my lap. "Whatever," I said, resigned.

Wolf tilted his head to the side and rattled quietly, then approached me when I didn't continue to lash out. He kneeled back down next to me to look at my legs.

Deep down, I knew I wasn't really mad at him. I was just angry in general and had no outlet. I was angry at my injury, angry at the phone . . . just angry.

I turned to look at him, my eyes narrowed. "I thought you'd left me for dead."

Wolf glanced at me, murmured something, then gripped my upper arm and started to stand, pulling me with him.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, grabbing his thick arm with both of mine.

His response was another encouraging rattle and he pulled me upward. My first instinct was to get my feet under me, but the tiniest little twitch made me gasp.

"No—no I can't—"

My dead weight didn't seem to be a bother for him, even with one arm. He pulled me up and my feet dragged on the ground, making me cringe and writhe.

"Stop! Stop!" I pleaded, tears streaming down my face.

When he hesitated, I almost sobbed in relief and tried to pry myself out of his grasp, but he held me tight.

"They're broken! I can't stand. Please? Please!"

For a moment he just made a decisive clicking noise, then rumbled in his chest like an annoyed dog and gently set me back on the ground. I couldn't bring myself to let go of him, though, as if terrified that he'd actually leave me if I let him go.

Once I gained control of my breathing—as much as the cold-induced spasms and broken ribs would allow—I looked up at him and swallowed hard.

"They need to be set . . . I'll need a splint . . . ," I muttered, wheezing every few words.

A rumble vibrated in his chest and he got behind me. In one fluid motion, faster than I could comprehend, he leaned forward, wrapped an arm around my waist, and pulled me off of the ground, holding me in the crook of his arm against his side.

I couldn't help the strangled screech that slipped past my lips, but he managed to do the whole thing without causing me too much undue pain.

And by "too much" I mean I didn't pass out again.

I hung there, limp in his arms, my legs and arms dangling. My feet barely scraped the ground as he carried me like a sack up the hill and into the encroaching woods.

Every movement made me cringe just a little bit, but once he made it up onto flatter ground, things were easier.

Despite the small bit of comfort that came from the heat he gave off, I felt completely undignified and even somewhat humiliated.

Being carried by the midsection wasn't a comfortable process, though it was certainly easier on my legs. I squirmed so much that Wolf nearly dropped me a couple times, but eventually, he lugged me to a part of the forest that had been cleared of snow.

The area was surrounded by a small copse of pines and frosted bushes. I didn't bother trying to figure out how he'd made the snow go away.

Wolf kicked away some rocks and sticks in a small patch of the ground and then bent his knees, lowering me down.

I extended my arms until my palms were on the dirt and could support some of my weight. Wolf chittered a warning, and then let me slide forward. I wasn't completely ready for it, though, and my sprained wrist buckled under my weight.

Just barely, I was able to turn and fall on my shoulder instead of my face.

"Son of a—you trying to break the rest of me?" I growled into my arm, glancing back at him as he let my legs slip from his grasp and fall semi-gently to the ground.

It still made my teeth grind, but it was better than being completely dropped from where he'd been holding me. I was prone now, but turned until I was in a sitting position with my legs stretched in front.

He cocked his head to the side as if wondering why the hell I was upset.

"Oh yeah sure, I get it. My face isn't what's broken, right?" I rolled my eyes.

For another moment he stared back at me, then his chest heaved and he turned and called out to the treetops. I figured I should probably lay off him a bit—he seemed to be becoming exasperated and the last thing I wanted to do was irritate him when I was like this.

Sighing, I rubbed my shoulders to try and warm up and said, "I'm sorry. I'm just . . . upset. That's all. I really do appreciate the help."

Wolf glanced at me, then nodded.

Though the wind wasn't so bad now that we were no longer in the open, it didn't make it any warmer. I curled up the best I could with my legs and wrapped my arms around myself, shivering, and I tried to figure out what was next on Wolf's agenda.

"Where's—"

As soon as I spoke, Brutus dropped from somewhere above us and landed heavily next to Wolf, startling me.

"Never mind."

Through the trees, I could hear a distant buzzing, but I wasn't sure what it was. A hum? The wind whistling in the branches? It didn't seem to bother Wolf or his pal, though, and after a few minutes, it went away.

Maybe just a ringing in my ears, or general forest sounds.

The two of them were in the middle of a discussion, and I realized that this was the first time I'd seen them outside of the shadows, in natural lighting.

They were still imposing—tall and muscled—but out of the darkness, they seemed somewhat smaller than I thought. Maybe it was because I wasn't as scared anymore.

It made me appreciate the differences between the two of them, as well. I had been able to tell Brutus wasn't Wolf because they were built somewhat differently: Wolf more like a wrestler to Brutus' towering linebacker.

However, they were also covered in different colored, rough, scaly skin. Wolf was a more pistachio green with darker spots around the joints, but Brutus was a dark, muddy brown with a similar mottled pattern.

They finished their conversation and both turned to look at me. I balked under their combined gazes and waited for them to do something. Brutus grunted and turned away, his shoulders squared as if he was miffed about something.

Wolf ignored him, however, and walked over to squat next to me. I leaned out a bit to peer at Brutus, but he was hanging back, rotated just enough to watch us sidelong.

"What's going on?" I asked, averting my attention back to Wolf, shivering more from the morning chill. My teeth were starting to chatter.

His response was incoherent at best, but I was starting to pick up on how he separated syllables. Plus, the growls and clicks were starting to sound more and more like an actual language.

I attributed most of the unintelligible gibberish to the mask he wore: it had to muffle a lot of what he was trying to say. I sighed, wondering why I bothered but figured that silence would be worse.

"Well it's cold, so whatever you're doing, hurry it up before I freeze to death," I said between teeth-shattering tremors.

He nodded and twisted to pull something off one of the straps running along his waist. What he presented to me was the long, unmistakable digit of one of the bugs. I shied away from it in disgust, but not before spotting the edges of a wound, almost like a square.

Checkers? When in the fuck had Wolf had time to lop off that dead thing's hand?

"What are you doing?" I asked as he produced a small dagger and sliced a shallow gouge into the palm.

He rooted the tip of his knife around for a moment, slathering it with a shallow coat of acid before discarding the hand. Where it landed and blood oozed on the dirt, it began to smoke.

When he crouched down in front of me, holding out the acid-covered knife, I leaned way back and eyed him warily. He seemed to notice and stopped to watch me for a second as if absorbing the uneasy way I was looking at him.

Wolf straightened his back after a brief moment of consideration and then lifted a hand to unplug some of the tubes from his mask.

That small gesture made my stomach twist as I realized he was removing it. I'd only known him for a short time but he'd always had that mask on, so it seemed out of place.

Though I kind of knew what to expect after seeing the people on the bridge, I was still a bit excited and apprehensive.

When the last tube came free, he fit his palm over the mask and popped it off.

My breath hitched and my fingernails cut into my palm as I waited.

Just like the others, he had a large, sloping forehead ridged with small, black spines and beady human-like eyes set deep into a thick brow. The solid green coloration of his face faded into a dark, almost black hue near the top of his head.

He had no nose to speak of, but the most striking feature was the four insect- or crab-like tusked mandibles set over an open mouth lined with sharp teeth.

The dreadlock-like appendages attached to his head fanned out from just underneath the spines lining his head.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and dropped my gaze somewhat, trying not to stare. This was him—this was Wolf.

He held his mask out to me and I looked from it to him and then back again before tentatively taking it from his hands.

It was heavier than the blade he'd loaned me and I had to hold it with both hands. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be looking at—the deep cracks or the strange scribbles?

Wolf rattled to get my attention.

It was startling how clear the syllables were now that the mask was off. I could almost make out the phrase, or word. It was hard to replicate, but it sounded slightly familiar, like he'd said it to me a few times.

My hand tapped the side of the mask and I looked around uneasily, but my gaze always fell to that knife. "What?"

He made a first and showed me the inside of his wrist. I leaned in for a closer look at the mark that was there.

It certainly wasn't just a random scar. Instead, it resembled one of the symbols on his helmet. The mark was bigger than a silver dollar and made up of three shapes, a sideways V, a sideways exclamation point, and the third underneath those two was kind of like an apostrophe.

"What's that?" I asked.

First, he motioned to the mark and lifted the knife again. I furrowed my brow and stared at it, trying to connect the dots and keep myself warm at the same time.

He obviously wanted to do the same thing to me, but I couldn't figure out why he had to do it with a knife dipped in acid.

Wasn't just a plain old sharp edge good enough?

Having that stuff drip on me before had been horrendous, I wasn't sure I wanted him to carve a tattoo into me with it. My back ached just thinking about it.

"Is this because I killed that one?" I asked, sounding warier than I had wanted to as I motioned toward the discarded hand.

I'd been going for reserved curiosity but instead sounded just plain skeptical.

He nodded.

Though I was sort of suspicious, I figured this alien didn't really gain anything by lying to me. If he wanted anything out of me he'd just use his plethora of muscles to do it, not trick me.

I eyed the knife again for a bit, then nodded and gave him my hand, assuming he would put it in the same spot.

/Guess I have been begging Mom to let me get a tattoo,/ I thought.

From where he was standing, I could make out Brutus muttering what I could only assume were protests. I glanced at him, but he hadn't moved.

This must have been what he and Wolf had been discussing in the moment's prior.

Wolf hesitated for a moment as if gauging my resolve. I tried my best to stop shaking, but I was cold and only getting colder, and his gaze was fierce and predatory without trying to be. It was making me uneasy.

At the very least the pain in my legs had subsided to a dull ache thanks to the cold, but I knew the shivering was going to make this hurt more and maybe botch it, like how you were supposed to hold still for a tattoo.

Finally, he leaned in. I closed my eyes and held my breath all in an attempt to keep myself from trembling.

When the tip of the acid-covered knife touched me, I couldn't help but jump from pain and surprise. Wolf's grip was steady, though, and my hand barely twitched.

The whole process only took a few seconds and then I was releasing my held breath with a shudder. It was kind of itchy and I had to resist the urge to scratch, afraid that it would ruin whatever work he'd done.

He held my arm for a few more seconds, then let go. It was just a red mark for the time being, but the general shapes were there.

Though I wasn't sure what to say or do in response, I felt like I needed to say something. Words failed me as I looked up at him. He didn't seem bothered by it and just inclined his head and closed his eyes.

Out of . . . what? Respect? It made my heart swell.

I drew in a breath and reciprocated the gesture, which seemed to please him.

A shiver seized my body and was so intense I felt it in my ribcage. "I'm so cold," I muttered, huddling up with my arms wrapped around me. My teeth clattered and made my jaw hurt.

Wolf glanced at me, his mask now back on his face, then held up a hand to tell me to just wait for a bit longer. Then he and Brutus spoke about something, and the grumpier alien took his leave into the trees, toward the bottom of the mountain where their ship was. Maybe to see the damage.

What exactly I wanted wasn't even clear to me. Was I asking him to build me a fire? Maybe pick me again? He'd been so warm . . . I wanted that back.

Mostly, though, I wanted so much to know what they were going to do with me.

My fingers were starting to feel numb and I breathed into my palms to warm them up. Whatever it was, sitting in the cold by myself a broken body was bad.

The beds of my fingernails were turning purple-blue and all I wanted to do was curl into a ball and try to retain some body heat, but every time I tried it sent white-hot bolts of pain through me.

Sitting with my legs straight out wasn't particularly comfortable, but if I tried to move, all I did was hurt myself.

Maybe they could just move me closer to the wreckage while they called for a pickup. It was clearly burning if the smoke reaching into the sky was any indication. Being close enough to it would keep me toasty.

The woods rustled off to my left and I glanced in their direction. Wolf stopped moving as well, growling and crouching down. That immediately put me on edge and we both just stared, waiting for something to happen.