Shut the Door

"What has gotten into that dog?" Mom groaned, turning up the television yet again. It didn't drown out Atlas' barking, but it allowed us to hear what was happening in the show.

In fact, I was certain the neighbors could hear what we were trying to watch now.

With everyone out of the house, it was just Mom and I. Dad had gone out with "the boys" to cheer up his buddy who lost his boyfriend, a park ranger. Both of my siblings were at a friend's house for the night.

We just watched TV and ate pizza all evening.

It was pretty nice.

When it became too much to bear, Mom sighed and walked toward the back door. "What do you think, sweetie? Maybe there are some elk out there wandering around."

"Dunno," I muttered, rubbing my temples.

All the barking and the loud noises were giving me a headache. I'd considered several times just going up to my room and shoving my head under a pillow, but Mom had seemed to be enjoying my company.

I was ready to go to bed, though . . . the whole day had drained my energy like nothing.

When she pounded against the window overlooking the backyard, I jumped and searched for a would-be attacker. When I couldn't find one and remembered where I was, I settled back into the couch and tried to hide the blush creeping up my neck.

Since coming home, I'd put myself at ease by telling myself that Atlas would alert us if something was going on, and now he wouldn't stop barking. The familiar sensation of anxiety lodged itself in my gut.

It's so dark outside . . . we'd never know if a drone was out there . . .

"Atlas! Shut up!" Mom shouted after throwing open the glass pane.

He didn't stop.

"We might have to put him in his kennel tonight, sweetheart. Let's see how he acts when he's in the house," she sighed.

/Oh no./

She pulled open the wooden entry, then pushed open the screen door. It creaked loudly and she stepped outside to shout at Atlas.

"Come on boy! Get inside!" she demanded. Heat from the kitchen leaked outside in wisps of wavy air.

"Atlas what are you doing? It's too cold for you to stay outside!" she called again when he didn't come after the first time.

His barking remained at the far side of the yard, but with a little more shouting and coaxing from my mother, he came bolting inside like his ass was on fire.

Mom locked up, then followed him into the main part of the house. "Come on, get in your kennel. Kennel up."

Despite the command, Atlas made a show of pacing between the kitchen and the couch. Even when the elk did come down the mountain, he was never this crazy about it.

As I watched him pace, my chest tightened with each whine and whimper. My fingers clenched and unclenched while mom chased him around before finally dragging him into his kennel.

"Now calm down," she demanded. She was slightly out of breath from the race.

"Was there something out there?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

Mom shook her head and slumped onto the couch with a heavy exhale. "Not a thing that I could see. I don't know what his problem is but he needs to chill out."

She turned the TV down to a more manageable volume. It would still be a while before my headache went away.

"Probably just some wild animal," she said after another moment's thought.

"Yeah, maybe." Though, I wasn't convinced.

In his kennel, Atlas seemed a bit calmer. Every now and again he would make little whimpering noises, but it wasn't as bad as it had been before. Atlas rested his head on his paws and heaved a sigh as he started to realize he was stuck.

"Can he still sleep in my room tonight?" I asked, my eyes not leaving him.

Mom looked at him as well and shook her head. "No probably not, I don't want him making it harder for you to sleep if he's going to keep barking. If he's a good boy, I'll let him out, but if he keeps it up then he's staying in the kennel."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry sweetie. Can you sleep without him for one night?" she asked, stroking my head.

Sighing, I stared over at Atlas' kennel and fidgeted with my hands. "Um, I guess so. If he gets better he can come into my room, though, right?"

Smiling, she nodded. "Of course."

It would have to be good enough, but at the rate he was going, Atlas probably wasn't going to calm down at all. He tossed and turned in his kennel, sighing and huffing and straight up barking sometimes. I took my crutches and wandered into the kitchen to look out into the backyard.

Approaching the window was difficult, but I eventually forced myself to part the blinds mom had drawn and peered outside.

Nothing but blackness.

Taking a breath, I turned on the back porch light and looked again. Still nothing. Sighing, I turned off the lights and grabbed a snack before returning to the living room.

No matter what, though, I couldn't convince myself that everything was okay.

When the time had come for me to retire to my room, Atlas still hadn't calmed down. I was almost beside myself, glancing at the windows and doors every now and again, half-expecting a drone to burst through the window and try to finish what it started back at the ship.

I kept playing scenarios in my head: where Dad kept his baseball bat and how long it would take me to grab it; what sort of knives we had in the kitchen, and if I could kill a full-grown drone with one before it melted.

Any hiding places we could pile into; whether or not I'd be able to hold my own with my legs in the condition they were . . .

It went on and on until Mom declared it was time for bed. I was almost too terrified to go by myself, but I bit my tongue and went anyway.

Like the big girl I was.

After wishing Atlas and my mom a good night, I turned in. Since I didn't have my comfort dog with me, I resorted to turning on the television so I didn't feel so alone in my room.

I had it turned down so I could hear it, but it wouldn't distract me while I tried to fall asleep.

Emphasis on "try".

Falling asleep proved difficult with Atlas' fuzzy lard-ass next to me. I tossed and turned, the occasional whimpering coming from downstairs not helping at all: I couldn't shake the niggling feeling that there was something hanging around that was upsetting him.

When I wracked my brain, I couldn't come up with anything. There were no more drones—at least, not as far as the government was concerned—so maybe it really was only a passing herd of elk.

That certainly wasn't unheard of, though it was a bit late in the season. There still could be some herds out there lagging a little bit behind or driven into town because of all the commotion in the woods.

Bears, mountain lions . . . there was any number of things it could be.

Surely the last thing I had to worry about was more aliens?

In the end, despite trying not to be dependent, I took my prescribed sleeping pills and let them lead me the rest of the way to sleep land.

Even after taking the pills, it still took me a full hour to finally relax enough to fall asleep.

The last thing I was aware of was the hum of the garage door opening and closing when Dad came home from his boys' night, then I was cast into a sleep full of shadows and elk with sharp teeth and beady black eyes.

Long, spindly hands groped at me in the darkness. I couldn't scream, couldn't run, couldn't move—still, those hands clutched and held me down. In the distance was a sharp sound, one that I was unable to immediately place . . .

Atlas.

It was enough to draw me out of slumber, but I was unable to shake the lingering feeling of something holding me down. I struggled to roll over and opened my eyes.

By now I was used to seeing silhouettes in my room—manifestations of my nightmares. It took a few seconds for them to fade, but I could blink them away if I focused.

This one, however, didn't go away.

This one was bigger and closer to me than the rest.

This one wasn't the shape I was used to.

A scream rose in my throat but the pressure on my chest—which I normally associated with my sleep paralysis—moved with the shadow and a rough hand covered my mouth, effectively silencing me.

It took another hand to restrain me as I thrashed about, and downstairs Atlas snarled and howled.

"SHUT UP!" came the booming voice of my father.

Not only did the dog fall silent, but even I ceased my flailing for a brief moment—long enough to realize I recognized the person giving me such a fright.

It was fucking Wolf.

Since I wasn't fighting anymore, he let go of my face and removed his other hand from my chest, letting me sit up. I stared at him in unabashed surprise before remembering how to speak.

"You-you're here!" I marveled, sitting up and reaching to touch his arm.

Real . . . he was really real. Standing next to my bed, scaring the shit out of me.

"Wait, what are you doing here?" I hissed through clenched teeth, lashing out at him. "You scared me half to death!"

The big muscle head leaned back and lifted an arm to ward off my thrashing hands. Of course, I couldn't really reach or hurt him.

Now breathless, I asked, "How did you find me?"

The metal jewelry adorning his tresses clinked together when he turned his head to look around the room. After a moment, he activated his wrist com and a hologram projected above it.

Mostly it was just a mass of bright red blotches surrounding something dark blue.

I squinted and leaned forward to see it better. Soon, I realized that the red splotches were people and they were surrounding a tree. It was just from such a distance that it was hard to tell.

The hologram shifted, zoomed in, and focused on one bright red light sitting down next to a smaller one. It took a moment to register that it was me and my brother.

At the memorial in the park from earlier.

"You were there?" I whispered.

It was a rhetorical question, the answer laid out on a silver platter. He'd been watching that entire time, lurking out of sight with all those people. He'd followed us home.

That shouldn't have come to a surprise. He was a hunter. It was what he did. He would have tracked me down one way or another.

Had he seen me panic? Watch my baby brother comfort me?

Wolf walked the length of my room in a couple paces. He stopped at my crutches and placed his hand on one of the supports and wiggled it back and forth.

I grimaced and explained, "They're helping me walk until my legs heal and strengthen."

Another glance in my direction, then he yanked the comforter off my lap. I gasped, pulled a pillow out from behind me, and hit him with it.

He chittered in surprise and reeled back, his shoulders squared and chest puffed out.

I ignored his display and covered my lap with the thinner bed sheets, my cheeks burning: I didn't like sleeping with pants on. Too hot.

He rumbled deep in his chest as he watched me for any more signs of aggression. When I showed none, he reached for the sheets again.

"What do you want?" I huffed, clutching the sheets.

Wolf motioned to my legs. He wanted to see them, I supposed.

Though I didn't think he would hurt me, I was a little leery of letting him. All the same, I let go of the sheets and let him pull them aside.

Trying to pretend I wasn't embarrassed to hell and back that I want wrapping anything except a t-shirt and underwear, I said, "I can mostly walk on my own, but it's the doctor's orders."

Couldn't let him think I was totally lame.

Wolf ran his fingers over my knee and shin, making me shiver at the light touch. The whole situation was uncomfortable and strange.

Then, suddenly, he moved my leg a little fast in the wrong direction.

Pain shot up my leg and spine, making me arch my back. My sharp cry cut through the relative silence of the house.

Out of instinct, I beat Wolf with the pillow one more time even though he had already snatched his hand back out of surprise—and concern, I hoped.

"Don't do that!" I said, teeth grinding as I fought the waves of throbbing. "It's not totally healed yet! God dammit you're like a child."

He reprimanded me with a sharp cuff to the ear. I glowered at the wall and let him lecture me in his strange language for a few seconds before rolling my eyes and cutting him off.

"I'm not apologizing. Jesus, you—that fucking hurt, holy shit. How did you get in here, anyway?"

Before he could answer, a door opened and closed. The hallway light turned on.

A shadow paced closer to my room. Fear filled me and I tried to wave Wolf off. I wasn't afraid of the person who might be coming toward my room, I was afraid FOR them.

Afraid they might see Wolf, freak out, and make him hurt them.

Frantic, I fought to keep my voice down. "Go invisible! Someone's coming."

I wasn't even finished talking before he melted into obscurity with an electric sizzle.

A faint knock reached my ears, but the person on the other side of the door didn't wait for an answer before pushing it open and peering inside. I barely had enough time to pull my blankets back over my body and try to look like I had been sleeping.

"You okay in here, sweetie?" Mom whispered. "I thought I heard you shout."

Fake squinting against the dim light from the hallway, I said, "I'm fine, Mom. I moved wrong in my sleep and hurt my knee, is all."

She leaned against the door frame and looked at me through half-closed eyes. I could tell by the angle of her hair that she had been deep in dreamland when my outburst had woken her.

Atlas had started whining downstairs, making those half-bark sounds he made when he knew he was going to be in trouble if he did the real thing.

"You sure you're okay?" Mom pressed. "Do you need a glass of water or anything?"

"No," I insisted. "Close my door, please? I accidentally left it open."

Mom seemed to have no intention of leaving, but finally, she said, "Alright sweetie. Sweet dreams. I love you."

"Love you too," I murmured, kind of embarrassed saying it with Wolf in the room.

I waited what seemed like forever for her to walk back to her room. She turned the hall light back off, but even after she closed her bedroom door, I counted to five.

Only then did I relax. No more outbursts. I had to be quiet moving forward.

Wolf had already dropped his cloak and I asked him, "You're keeping Brutus away from my family, right?"

He rumbled in amusement and nodded.

"I . . . kind of thought you'd left already. Are you still waiting for rescue?"

He nodded again.

"How did you get in my house?"

Wolf pointed at my bedroom door.

"You just . . . walked in through the front door?" I gaped. "Of course you did . . ."

We didn't exactly keep the door locked because we were lucky enough to live in a pretty safe area. My mom was friends with pretty much every neighbor in a four-block radius.

Even though I knew he had been invisible to the naked eye, it still made me nervous how close he'd been without anyone realizing. His kind hunted us.

"So where's Brutus?" I asked.

Wolf answered with an indication toward the backyard, but I didn't know if he meant Brutus was in the yard or somewhere off in that general direction. Whatever it was, at least he wasn't in the house.

He set his heavy hand on my head before walking around the room and looking at my things. Patronizing as always.

I watched him, brow furrowed, as he approached my pile of stuffed animals. The one he picked out was a big, child-sized lion my dad had bought me for a long-ago birthday.

"What?" I asked.

Without looking at me, he turned the well-loved toy over in his hands, squeezed it, ruffled the faux-fur mane, then turned toward me, raising it up. He growled an inquiry and tilted his head.

"It's a toy. It's not real."

His snort was one of disgust and he dropped it back into the pile before returning to my bedside.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, a little insulted that he didn't approve of my stuffed animals. What did it matter to him?

The alien lifted a hand, palm facing up, and motioned with his fingers for me to stand.

I shook my head in refusal, but not because I was being disobedient. I had a bone to pick.

"I'm not supposed to go walking around that much. Remember that whole, you made me jump out of ship falling down a hill? Then I broke my legs? This—" I made a sweeping gesture over my legs, "—is all your fault, you know."

With the mask on, it was hard for me to pick out the nuances of his speech, but I could at least figure he was saying some sort of admission of guilt, or maybe he was trying to tell me it wasn't his fault. There was really no way for me to know.

However, I chose to believe he was apologizing. Made me feel better, at least.

Once more, he indicated for me to stand.

"Why?" I asked suspiciously.

Part of me thought it knew the answer. I was hoping I was wrong.

Wolf made an exasperated sound and my voice played back through his mask. It sounded as if he had recorded it from far away and it was warped, but I still recognized my own voice.

{"Can we go?"} the recording played.

It had been from my visit to the memorial.

A lump formed in my throat and I forced it down, where it fell to the bottom of my stomach and settled like a stone.

"You're here to take me?"